


cupid's defence

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: ( a lot of ), Angel Harry, Cupid AU, Everyone Is Smart, Fluff, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Niall wears glasses, Slow Burn (Sort Of), True Love, and a lot of weird shit goes down, banter ( a lot of), harry is cupid, its really one of those fics that you have to open and just roll with, lawyer AU, louis is a lawyer, receptionist!niall, wackiness (an extreme amount of), you know?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-11-21 06:02:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 116,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11351361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In which Harry is Cupid, Louis and Liam own a law firm, and they're all getting sued.





	1. Chapter 1

i. 

 

Louis found out about the lawsuit the same way everyone else did: on tv.

In all honesty, he didn't really take it in. The colours were too loud and the volume too low, and, in his defence, he was in bed with someone at the time. He managed to catch a glimpse of the title: _MILLIONAIRES SPL--_ before being tugged back under the duvet, and that, seemingly, was that.

-

He awoke to chuckles. Loud, brash, chuckles, ones that cut through his sleepy state like razors. Sitting up, Louis became aware of a few different things: the room, green and simplistic, the lamp: bright red, and the bed: which held an occupant. This occupant was sniggering in front of him, clearly amused, their shoulders bobbing up and down in hysterics.

"She can't be serious," Louis heard him say, "That's fucking ludi."

Louis blinked, delirious. "What's ludi?"

"Come clock the news," the man laughed, with a turn of the face.

He had quite an appealing face, now that Louis thought of it, with dark brown eyes, a soft set of afro curls, and a lip piercing. In hindsight, the man's face was probably why Louis had ended up in his flat, and then in his bed. A comfy bed, but a bed that he should really have been leaving at that point. Nonetheless, temptation took hold.

Sitting up brought a headache and regret. But it also brought the oversaturated news channel, with the headline "LYVONINSKY DIVORCE", and a woman being interviewed in the centre. Louis felt a flare of recognition, as would anyone. She was Sheila Lyvoninsky, one half of the United Kingdom's richest entrepreneur couple, and the co-founder of Lyvoninsky Industries, which specialised in anything, from prosthetic feet to coffee machines.

It would take an idiot not to recognise her. At that point she had become nothing short of a British household name. Even so, Louis was not surprised.

"Celebrities break up all the time," he said, suspiciously, "Why's this on tv?"

"Have you heard the reason?" The man replied, and turned up the volume. "It's fucking stupid as shit."

Louis listened, intently, as the woman on screen, being interviewed, then began to rant and rave.

"I know whose fault this is," she spat, angrily, "It's the fault of that bloody Cupid! He marched into our lives, and he did all of this. We didn't want to fall in love! We didn't want to share business! And now he's ruined us!"

The man turned to Louis, an 'I told you so' expression on his features. Louis just-- gaped.

"She's got to be kidding," he gawped.

"She's media trained as fuck," The man said, "She sure as shit ain't kidding."

Louis watched Sheila's red-spotted cheeks, creased, low brow, and frustration-filled eyes, and tried to understand what would drive a person to such a conclusion.

-

Coming into work that morning was a blessing and a curse. It was a blessing because TOMMO & PAYNE LLP's tiny office held not only hot chocolate, but coffee, and Louis had not quite recovered from his one night stand. However, it was a curse because it was not only raining outside, but on the way he had to pass not one, but two members of the paparazzi, who hounded him for an entire two blocks.

"Mr Tomlinson! Are you going to represent Mrs Lyvoninsky in her case?"

"Mr Tomlinson! What is your firm working on now?"

"Mr Tomlinson! What is your legal opinion on the matter? What are her odds?"

Louis could answer all of the questions mentally, if not verbally:

  1. "No."
  2. "Anything that doesn't involve a camera. We've had just about enough fame for a lifetime, thanks."
  3. "She might be a little tired. Or drunk. Either way, it doesn't concern me."



But instead, he settled for a neat little patch of silence and went on with his day. Once he'd reached the firm, they'd gone, which was either because the rain had gotten too heavy or because Liam had finally gotten around to filing that no-contact order he always boasted of.

In hindsight of Liam's shoddy organisation, it was probably not the latter.

Louis opened the doors of their little firm, and shuffled his feet on the mat. He was greeted by their receptionist, Niall, whose blonde hair laid scruffily upon his head. Niall had a panache for many things, but none of his talents would ever amount to his unconditional ability of being flustered. He looked flustered when he closed up the firm, he looked flustered when it opened.

He _certainly_ looked flustered when Louis let all of that rain in. He gasped, audibly, before rushing up, his Crocs squeaking on the laminate.

"Louis!" He hissed, and shut the door behind him.

"Sorry," Louis began to shrug off his coat.

"You don't have to make--" Niall moved Louis' sopping wet umbrella from the floor and onto the mat-- "Such a mess. The mat is _right_ there."

"Sorry. Bad habit," Louis admitted, "Is Payno up?"

"Has been for hours," Niall conceded. He wore thick-rimmed glasses that, misted up from the rain, made him look bug-like, "You hear about that Lyvonininininski thing?"

"Lyvoninsky," Louis corrected.

"Yeah," Niall breathed, "Li's been the phone all fuckin' morning, jabbering 'bout it."

"Yeah, well," Louis shrugged, "You know how Liam is with his celebrities."

"Even so. You should probably see to him. He's going out-of-proportionally anal."

"Really, huh?" Louis grinned. "More anal than yelling about a mat?"

"Rain piles are unhygienic, and you know it," Niall argued, walking to his desk, "And you need to put that coat on the dryer, or it'll stink."

"I think you're forgetting whose name is on the door."

"I think you're forgetting basic fuckin' hygiene."

Louis laughed, climbing the stairs. The beauty of their tiny firm was that there was only one flight of stairs, which saved a lot of time and pain for clients and lawyers alike. It had been one of the reasons why he and Liam had bought the place, originally, all those years ago. Even if the carpet's pattern closely resembled baked beans, it was still one hell of a buy.

Liam's office faced Louis', and instead of Louis' overly bland one, had a stained glass window in the door, and fairy lights spread throughout. He had insisted that both things made his workspace appear "professional", but Louis just thought that they made it look like a bad furniture catalogue.

_"You can't go with both old lighting and new lighting," Louis had argued, "I mean, people'll wonder what you're going for."_

_"I'm going for classy, yet approachable," Liam had replied, turning to each: "Classy. Approachable. Classy. Approachable. I mean, what have you got in your office? Bloody nothing, that's what."_

_"Liam," Louis crossed his arms, "The people here? They're already at a law firm. There's nothing you can do to make them any less uncomfortable."_

If he were someone else, Louis would have knocked. But Hell, he had Liam knew each other inside out, and if six years spent rooming together at law school and university both didn't mean they didn't have to knock on each others' doors, then what was the point?

When Louis opened the door, Liam was stood at his desk, his brow extremely furrowed. That was the thing about Liam: he always looked mildly stressed out, and Louis had worried about it until he'd learned that that was Liam's natural expression.

"It's like resting bitch face," Niall had explained, one day, "But it's resting stress face."

The three of them had been in university together, but the difference was that Niall had gotten an English degree, instead of the good old Law that Liam and Louis pursued. After graduating, Niall never quite managed to get a job, so Liam and Louis took him in at their firm. Between shifts, he worked on a play he swore he'd publish one day, even though it, in his words, was "complete and utter shite."

"I can't believe there's no credible source for it," Liam ranted, hand on his face, "No, I know she has a rep. No, they haven't gotten in contact. Steve, this is a massive case, and I want in! You need to-- No, there's no-- Please-- No- hey, don't take it personally. No, I didn't say that-! Steve, this is-- Steve--"

Liam swore, putting the phone down.

"Bad timing?" Louis asked, poking his head around the door.

"Bad call," Liam shook his head, sighing, before slumping himself into his desk chair and rubbing at his forehead.

"Niall tells me you've been stressed."

"Ha," Liam wheezed, and smiled, "He told you that?"

"Yep," Louis took a step forwards, "You wanna tell me why?"

"Louis..." Liam put his head in his hands, "We haven't had an exciting case in weeks. I know that after our big case last year you wanted a little down time. But that was our moment in the spotlight and I can't help but feel we-- we missed it. We messed up. And now.."

He sighed.

"Now, the biggest celebrity in the country has just opened a law case, and there's no way we'd ever get a chance in hell of representing her. We're just not known enough. And do you know how much she's suing for, Louis? _Millions._ Millions that we could've been a part of."

"But, Liam," Louis said, aimlessly, "She's suing a character of fiction."

Liam snorted, sadistically. "I know."

" _You know?_ "Louis sat at the desk opposite. "So you've gotta know there's no way we could win that case, right? Even if it does make it to court?"

"Well," Liam shrugged, "The Lyvoninskys are rich as hell, and usually don't take to the stage for no reason. If they don't find someone to blame they'll blame each other, and that'll amount in an even bigger lawsuit."

"And more money to win," Louis mused.

Liam nodded. "Exactly. So when there's no-one to blame, or as soon as this 'Cupid' theory is blown away, whoever gets first dibs to represent either side when they inevitably turn on each other is in for mega, mega cash. No matter the result."

"But, Liam..." Louis sighed. "Is this the sort of case we want to be dealing with?"

"Unless you want to be solving neighbour disputes for the rest of your life? Yes. Yes, it is," Liam picked up the phone, "I've got to try."

Louis left just as Liam began a new conversation with someone who sounded just as aggravated as 'Steve' had been, and it was as if he'd never been in the room. Sometimes, Liam's persistence was more of a hindrance than it was a help.

-

While Liam pursued the impossible, Louis dealt with their _actual_ work, which was contacting clients over their various personal injury, tax, and repossession concerns. They were unspeakably boring, to say the least, which is why after the first hour of work, Louis' mind began to wander.

After Liam's constant and consistent protests about the blandness of Louis' room, he'd eventually given in, and decorated the walls a little. Said decoration involved various photos of Louis' friends, family and dog, items the firm had been sent as a 'thank you' gift (amongst them: a Russian Doll, various 'thank you' cards, two vases, and a cushion with a cat on it), and last of all, cutouts of their previous cases.

They were newspaper cutouts, mostly from last year, when it seemed that for a while, they could do no wrong. One took centre stage: an image of Liam and Louis hugging, outside of the Inner London Crown Court. That had been after their biggest case ever, a massive lawsuit against Cowell & Co that had left the company bankrupt, and their misused workers filthy rich. It had also, coincidentally, meant that they achieved the equivalent of lawyer stardom.

Louis smiled at the photo, softly so. Those were the good times: a new case every day, more clients than they could handle, and endless praise too. The only real downside were the press, who hounded them for private information, and much more besides. In fact, they still did.

It was that case that had gotten them into this whole mess, that case that meant Liam hungered for the fame they achieved back then, ever since. He'd never admit it out loud, but it was that goddamn case that ruined them.

-

The newsstands were filled with the lawsuit case, and the radio too. Louis, sick of it, turned it off the second it came on. The last thing he needed, now that Liam was apparently hellbent on running their reputation to the ground, was Sheila Lyvoninsky's voice in his head.

That, he was determined, would remain sacred.

That night, he came home to a small apartment. It was one he'd purchased with the cut of the money they won from the Cowell lawsuit, and for nearly all of it, too. A white, modern space, he spent the majority of his time there playing with his dog, playing ping pong, or sleeping. It was the latter that was on his mind once he got home, as he'd hardly gotten the chance to rest between his one night stand, his night of drinking, and the tedious day of work.

He was so tired that he barely noticed the change in the air, or the fact that his dog was covered in glitter. Sometimes, sleep came first.

And so, with the rain splattering against the window, and his shoes still on, he slept.

-

The last time Louis had awoken, abruptly, it was to the laughter of an one-night-stand.

Now, it was to the wriggling of his toe. Strangely enough, it was not him who was wriggling it. Shuffling, he turned on his side, and murmured a strangled "Down, girl", before trying to wrestle back any remaining sleep.

What he did not expect was the deep, grouchy voice that said, in reply-

"I am not a girl."

Louis leapt up so quickly that his heart stopped. There was a man stood at the bottom of his bed.

A man.

A full-grown, fully-fledged man, with pale white skin and an apprehensive expression, something that looked like a weapon in his hand. Louis yelped with shock, anger building, and pulled the duvet back over himself.

"How did you get in here?" He squealed.

The man looked blandly towards the window.

"I flew," he said. His voice sounded slightly echoed, as if he was using a voice changer.

"Did you break in through the door? The fire exit?"

"I did not," the man said.

"What do you want?" Louis' chest was heaving, and a layer of sweat had began to appear. "Are you after cash? My bank account? My credit card?"

"I have no need for those." The man frowned.

"What, then?" Louis began to shake with anger, "Whatever it is-- Just---take it. Take it and leave."

The man ignored him and began looking out of the window. Louis could only see him from the waist up, and his torso was long, as were his arms. Louis watched with horror as the man put his palms up against the window, a calm expression entering his face.

"The world has changed," he mused, quietly.

It was safe to say that his calm composition did not, in the slightest, match Louis'.

"Hey!" Louis spat, anger increasing. "You're in my home!"

"Strange," the man said, turning. "This land is yours?"

"Yes!" Louis squealed, "This fucking land is mine! Now please, please get out of it!"

The man chuckled, approaching Louis, and his lips curled upward in delight.

"What's funny?" Louis felt the fear leave him.

"Humans humour me," the man said. He was still approaching.

"Get out of my apartment," Louis said.

The man turned, and began approaching a finger towards Louis' chest.

"What?" Louis stuttered, meeting the man's calm gaze. "What are you doing?"

The finger reached for one of Louis' tattoos, wondering. "What is this?"

Lost for words, Louis panicked, shoving the finger away.

What happened next was inconceivable.

A sensation that felt a lot like lightning shot up Louis' arm, and he was, for a moment, frozen at the feeling. Where he'd touched the man, a golden glow had emerged, and his finger became hot: very hot, very quickly. When time started again, it did so endlessly, mercilessly; they had parted, and Louis was left holding his hand in shock.

"What-- what just happened?" He stammered.

The man looked at him with a quiet sense of observation.

"What did you do?" Louis gasped. "What did--"

He opened his hand and looked at his finger. It appeared completely normal, but a consuming numbness had taken over it, throwing him completely off-guard.

"What did you do to me?" Louis looked around for an explanation. A taser? An electric current of some sort?

"It is a mechanism of defence," the man said, quietly, "I did not think you would touch me."

The man approached, slowly, and reached out to Louis' hand.

"Whoa, whoa whoa!" Louis hissed. "Hey! Get away!"

"I can heal your hand," the man promised, "But you must let me touch you again."

"Who the fuck even-- who the fuck even are you?" Louis was white with shock.

"I am Harlithethius," the man said. "Allow me to help you."

Shaken, Louis carefully, warily, stopped moving his arm. He watched with distinct dread as the man took his hand in his, and, in replacement of the lightning, there was warmth. Their joined hands began to glow, and for a second Louis could see all of the veins and nerves inside of his fingers, visible atop the light.

Then, the man let go, and Louis could feel his fingers again. The golden glow began to fade, and Louis looked at both sides of his palm in awe: fear slowly fading.

"Is this some kind of fucked up dream?" He asked. "Was my coffee spiked?"

"It would be easy to assume that this is a halluncination," Harlithethius said, softly, "But that is not the case."

Louis watched him stand, slowly, and walk back to the window. Apparently, there was some kind of fascination between him and it: but Louis didn't care. Instead, he reached for his side table, and got his phone out from atop it. This-- whatever it was-- needed to stop this before it got even weirder.

He dialled 999, knees drawn to his chest. Meanwhile, Harlithethius was still gazing out of the window, a glassy expression on his face as he took in the deep dark world of midnight. Louis didn't take his eyes from him, cataloguing a visual reference of him in case the police wanted to know:

  1. Glossy, dark hair. It could have been brown, or black, but in the poor light Louis couldn't tell. It lay on his head in some kind of curly...formation.
  2. Pale skin. There were no distinguishable marks Louis could see on it, like birthmarks, or scars. Instead, it stretched on perfectly softly, from the top of his forehead to the top of his hip.
  3. A strange physique. He was tall, taller than Louis was, and he had large shoulders which sloped elegantly beneath a pair of sharp, sharp collarbones. His arms were skinny, and his jaw softened, and he didn't look much like a criminal. The fact that he was topless just added to Louis' confusion.



The phone picked up. "999, which emergency service do you require?"

"Police," Louis whispered, heart thumping, "I...er...Need the police."

"What is your emergency?"

"There are people," Harlithethius said, suddenly, and a sense of excitement became clear in his features.

He grinned, which was a weird sight, and reached for a bow and arrow. Louis didn't even want to think about where that came from: he just yelped, putting the phone down, and began to run. By the time he reached Harlithethius he'd already opened the window and fired two arrows into the street-- the fucking street-- and there was nothing Louis could do.

Well. Aside from tackle him to the floor.

Louis collided with a hard, hard torso, and Harlithethius fell too. He dropped the bow, which was a positive, but he was apparently naked, which was a negative, as Louis was in his fucking pyjamas. They lay there for a second, blindly scrambling, then Louis jumped off him and picked up the bow.

"Why did you attack me?" Harlithethius scowled.

"What is this? What did you do?!" Louis yelled.

"There was no need for violence!"

Louis was lost for words. "You attacked-- The arrows-- they--"

Harlithethius frowned, and then huffed. "I attacked no-one."

"Those people--!" Louis exclaimed. "In the street--!"

"They are unharmed," his counterpart said, and he nodded, "Look for yourself."

Louis did, eagerly pressing his face up against the window. His heart was beating incredibly loud and fast as he did so, scanning the street below. A rush of relief came over him as he saw no injuries, but two people, looking at one another from either sides of a bus stop.

"I go by my word," Harlithethius said, once he saw Louis calm, "I hurt no-one."

"Then what did you--?" Louis frowned.

And then, he saw. The people on the bus stop below stood, took a step, and then aggressively began kissing one another. It was almost animalistic to see, random in it's timing, and completely inappropriate, considering the surrounding and time of night both.

"They started kissing," Louis commented, awestruck. He turned to the man. "What did you do?"

"I made them fall in love," Harlithethius brushed his hair out of his eyes, "That is what I do. The arrow never injures. Or misses."

Louis stared.

And stared.

And then, he blinked.

"Are you saying you're fucking Cupid?" He asked, eventually.

"There is no need for expletives," Harlithethius scowled, "And yes."

Louis stepped away from the window, dropped the bow, and put both hands on his head.

"I'm fucking dreaming," he announced, "I'm dreaming. I swear. I am."

"This is no dream," Harlithethius stood.

"I am," Louis laughed, sadistically, "I'm dreaming and I'm doing that thing where your brain puts random parts of your day into-- into your dream. And this is the Cupid part."

"I do not understand your meaning."

"You're--" Louis pointed. "You're not fucking real!"

Harlithethius shook his head. "I am Eros, Xochipilli, Yue-Lao, Min, Siebog, Cupid, and most recently, Harlithethius. I am in most human cultures, but never before have I been referred to as 'not fucking real'."

He was deadpan as he said it. Louis just breathed, harshly, hands knotted in his hair: trying, helplessly, to make some sense of the facts before him.

"I know that for a human mind this must be..." Harlithethius picked up his bow, "Strange. But I will do no harm to you, as I would never do any harm to any human. I am here for a reason, and that reason is to acquire your help."

Louis felt weak at the knees, and not in the good way.

"You're a god of love." He stated.

"Yes."

"You're...A god of love. One of the big guys. You...You make people fall in love, and shit," Louis swallowed, roughly, "You made those people fall in love out there."

"I did."

"You..." Louis blinked. "You're real."

Harlithethius smiled. "I am glad you understand."

"No!" Louis hissed. "No! I do not understand! I am trying to understand. I am one man, trying to understand, which is not at all the same as understanding!"

"Now I do not understand," Harlithethius frowned.

"Listen," Louis put a hand on his forehead, "You're a god who supposedly just flew in through my fucking window, wearing no clothes, shooting fucking arrows out of my window at fucking God knows what time, asking for my help and I-- I'm allowed to be confused, alright? I'm allowed."

Harlithethius nodded.

"Now, I don't know who you are, or care who you are, or even know what time it fucking is," Louis ran his hands through his hair, "But if I'm even gonna attempt to find out, I'm gonna need some coffee."

He began to walk, and realised the man was still facing the window, butt naked.

"Just-- stay here," He pulled the blind down, agitated, "Okay? Just stay here and don't touch anything."

He left the room, and tried to figure out how the bloody fuck his life got to such a point.

-

Louis had just about made a cup of coffee when his dog woke up. She was a pug called Angie, his only companion, and she came out of the dining room covered in sparkles.

"Where the bloody hell have you been?" He asked, incredulously.

She looked at him, inquisitive, and he gave in, rubbing her ears.

"You know," he muttered, "You were meant to be a guard dog."

Angie licked his face, and he laughed.

"Do you know what that means? It means you're meant to protect me against stuff like this. Or let me know there's a six foot naked man in my apartment," he stepped back, suddenly, a frown on his face, "Hang on."

Angie waddled on past to her food bowl, completely unaware she was leaving a trail of sparkles behind.

"You're sparkly." He commented.

Beyond done, Louis picked up his coffee and walked back to the bedroom. There, Harlithethius had not only disobeyed Louis' orders, but was currently filing through his drawers.

"Hey!" He yelled, and Harlithethius looked up, "Stop that!"

"I wondered what they were for," Harlithethius said, awkwardly, and Louis stormed past him, replacing the drawers' contents and shutting them, tight, "I am sorry for any inconvenience."

"Inconvenience!" Louis put his hands on his hips. "You broke into my fucking home, made me dog fucking sparkly, and now you're going through my shit?"

"I am sorry," Harlithethius looked away, "Your creature was an accident."

"--What?"

"I did not mean to make her sparkle," Harlithethius played with his hands, "When I cry, tears arise."

Louis pinched the bridge of his nose. "So you're telling me that you cry glitter."

The man on his bed appeared guilty. "I am sorry."

"You were crying-- on my---Why were y-- " Louis shook his head, words failing him. "You know what--Just--"

Louis lost his breath as Harlithethius met his eye. With the light on, he looked different: softer. He had a gently defined face, with gently defined cheeks, with lips shaped like a fucking Cupid's bow. They were a bright, soft pink, which surprised Louis, and the depth of his eyes were astounding.

Okay: so he was the most beautiful man Louis had ever seen. That didn't make Louis any less pissed at him.

"Why are you here? What do you want?"

"You are Louis Tomlinson," Harlithethius recited, hands in his lap, "Hero of men."

"I--" Louis frowned, "What?"

Harlithethius reached behind him and produced a newspaper. It was one of the cutouts that didn't make it to Louis' wall, but had resided in his bedside drawers ever since. It had a headline titled _THE FIRM THAT SAVED MY LIFE_ and it was one of Cowell  & Co's ex-employee's account of how Louis and Liam won them back their money. The reason it hadn't made it on the wall was because of it's overly praising themes, most of which Louis' humility could not handle.

"I don't understand," was all Louis' mind could muster to say.

"You defend those in need," the man said, "And I need you to defend me."

Louis paused, his head whirling. He put his hands on his face, held the back of his neck, curled his toes until they moved no further.

"The Lyvoninsky case," he murmured, "Oh, _fuck_."

-

It was safe to say that Louis did not sleep that night, and it was not for the good reason that it usually was. He'd spent the rest of his time on his laptop, researching Greek and Roman mythology, and he'd told Harlithethius, or whatever he was called, to sleep on the sofa.

Had Harlithethius slept on the sofa? No.

"I have not 'slept' for millennia," he complained, as Louis threw some pillows down onto the couch, and crossed his arms, "Gods do not have need for rest."

"That's well and good, but," Louis said, "I need to research, and I can't do that while you're awake."

Harlithethius had laid down, awkwardly so, and Louis strategically threw a cushion over his crotch.

"Hey," Harlithethius frowned.

"Do-- Do you want something to put on?" Louis begged, "I mean, I've got to be able to get you something to cover your--ahem."

"If my trueness upsets you, then I will change," the other man blinked, slowly so, and it was almost a dare.

"It doesn't upset me--" Louis itched the back of his head, "It just makes me kinda uncomfortable."

"Why is that?"  
  
"Well," Louis looked away, "What you call trueness, other people call weirdness. And, you know, indecent exposure."

Harlithethius just stared at him, with those beautiful eyes, and that beautiful face, and that beautiful frown. Louis had to stop looking, because looking at the man was like being sucked, slowly, into a vacuum cleaner. But instead of a vacuum cleaner, he was being drawn into a person. Did that make sense? It probably didn't. All Louis knew was that he shouldn't have looked into those eyes, in any shape or form, because they had a strange, captivating effect on him.

It was almost as if he was being compelled towards him. Like the mermaids of lore.

"And, you, uh," Louis shuffled, "Can go to prison for it? You know?"

Harlithethius shuffled, closing his eyes. "I am comfortable as I am."

Louis looked at Angie, who sniffed with a look that said,  _can't really argue with that._ And Louis had to agree. 

He shrugged, leaving the room. "Alllright."

And so it was six hours later, and Harlithethius was still awake. Louis had heard him shuffling all night, and at one point, he'd even heard him whispering to Angie. By that stage Louis' patience, and stamina, had all but run out, so he just thought _fuck it_ and let the god do whatever the god wanted to do.

That was, if he even was who he _said_ he was. Louis couldn't wrap his head around any of the details: he just knew he needed a second eye on all of it. Facts he'd collected over the past few hours stared at him, painfully, from inside of his laptop screen. They made, much to his dislike, a frightening amount of sense.

**In classical mythology, Cupid (Latin Cupīdō, meaning "desire") is the god of desire, erotic love, attraction and affection. He is often portrayed as the son of the love goddess Venus and the war god Mars. He is also known in Latin as Amor ("Love"). His Greek counterpart is Eros.**

So he was the son of Venus. With those eyes in mind, it made sense.

**He was also worshipped as a fertility deity, and the Theogony Hesiod makes him a primordial god, while in some myths, he was the son of the deities Aphrodite and Ares.**

It was always nice to know that you had a fucking _fertility deity_ in your front room.

**Although some literature portrayed Cupid as callous and careless, he was generally viewed as beneficent, on account of the happiness he imparted to couples both mortal and immortal. At the worst he was considered mischievous in his matchmaking, this mischief often directed by his mother, Venus.**

Careless? In terms of the whole nudity situation, Louis would certainly agree. And as for mischief...Well. Louis didn't even want to _think_ about what that meant.

**In Alexandrian poetry he degenerated into a mischievous child. In Archaic art he was represented as a beautiful winged youth but tended to be made younger and younger until, by the Hellenistic period, he was an infant.**

Eventually, Louis stared until the reality of his situation began to sink in. And, well, by  _began_ , he meant he only just started to work on the fact that there was a god in his apartment.

The naked man thing? That was weird, but somewhat fine, considering Louis' streak of (in the main, attractive) one night stands. And as for the whole Sheila thing... If he genuinely, genuinely _was_ the Cupid she was talking about, and they both weren't mentally unstable, playing a prank, or just generally acting strangely, then there might actually have been a case for her prosecutors, in there, somewhere. 

Somewhere.

By the time he reached that conclusion, Louis had just about made a file captioned "sparkles", saved it to his computer, and was just about to start on breakfast when he heard a loud voice coming from the next room along.

It sounded female. Louis' panic increased: had Harlithethius found the phone? Was there another god in there? Had he bewitched Angie to talk? He didn't know. And that's why he sprinted into that room as if his life depended on it.

"The plaque moves on its own," Harlithethius commented.

He was watching the fucking shopping channel.

"It's not a plaque," Louis sighed, crossing his arms, "It's a television."

"What is it's purpose?"

Louis' eyes moved from the sofa, to the floor, to the carpet. They were all covered in sparkles, as well as one of Angie's balls, which Louis now guessed doubled as a disco ball now.

"To, uh...Entertain," he said, "Have you been crying again?"

Harlithethius turned. He was stood up in front of the television, and his face was coated in thousands of baby pink sparkles. "Is it of consequence?"

"Shit," Louis sighed, heavily, "You know, you better hope your tears wash out."

Harlithethius looked around, tv remote in his hand. Louis took it from him. "Did you find your research useful?"

"Not really," Louis admitted, "In fact, I think its just opened up a whole bunch of new questions."

"For example..."

"For example," Louis turned off the tv, "How the fuck am I going to explain this to my friends?"

Harlithethius' face twisted with outrage. "You turned off the television!"

"Yes, I did. Sue me." Louis picked up the glitter-covered cushions. "Ha! See what I did?"

Harlithethius turned away. "I do not find your jokes amusing."

" _I_ find them funny," Louis defended, smiling to himself.

He dumped the cushions in the hamper.

"Wait," he paused, "So you know you're being sued?"  
  
Harlithethius scowled, as if the words felt bitter in his mouth. "I am aware."

"So you're here to defend yourself," Louis bargained, "Or, I don't know, maybe something else?... Play chess? Figure skate? Learn the piano?"

"It is on my god's honour that I arise in the face of human doubt," Harlithethius retorted, "No matter the consequence."

"So it's no accident you ended up in my apartment," Louis guessed.

Harlithethius shook his head.

"You are a hero of men. And you are to protect me, if you wish it," he said, and it was only a few minutes later that Louis realised it was a question.

"I--" Louis blushed. "I can't-- You're asking me to be your lawyer."

"Yes."  
  
"But--" Louis looked away, "I can't-- I need to--"

His mind froze with the impossibility of it all. Was he _truly_ on a drug trip? _Greek God requesting legal help Greek God requesting legal help_

And yet, he did not refuse. He could not, somewhat. He imagined Liam, sat in his office all night, trying helplessly to be involved in the case of the century. And here one had arrived. Sure, it wasn't fighting on the side that they would've preferred to fight. And sure, it meant taking the word of a naked guy with beautiful eyes and a touch that made your hands sizzle. But he had to at least check the story out, if nothing else.

He owed Liam the chance.

"I--I-- we need to plan," he stuttered, eventually, "And, and, I need-- I need Liam."

"Liam Payne," Harlithethius commented, "The man also in the script."

"Newspaper," Louis corrected, "But yeah. He's a buddy. And he always knows what to do. So I've got to-- Shit. we've got to get you cleaned up."

"You find me unsatisfactory?" Harlithethius' face scrumpled, and he crossed his arms.

"You've got fucking glitter all over you," Louis shrugged, "So yes."

Louis checked his phone to see a text from Liam, at the crack of dawn, as Liam's texts always were.

**Hey, Pal**

**Got some news 2 share with u. In the office ok?**

**See u later xx**

**-Li**

Louis was quick to type a reply, as he always was.

**okay**

**i'll see you then. surprisingly, i have news. and, i'm not bragging, but it's probably bigger than yours**

A response came instantly.

**I don't think so. xx**

Louis snorted, and realised Harlithethius was still looking at him, expression filled with confusion.

"Okay," he said, pocketing the phone, "Errrr... I'm gunna need you to get in the shower real quick."

"What-- in the name of Gaia---" Harlithethius frowned, repulsed, "Is a _shower?_ "

-

"I do not like showers," Harlithethius summarised, in the shower, "I do not like their various buttons."

"Do you not have them, like, wherever you live?" Louis called, from outside. "In paradise? Heaven? A big fluffy cloud in the sky?"

"I do not live in any of those places," Harlithethius scowled, and the shower turned off. He emerged, moments later, his face slick with water, "And I do not like being wet."

"I'd say I'm sorry, but you woke me up at an ungodly hour, so..." Louis handed him a towel, "Dry yourself with this. Try not to cry."

Harlithethius took the towel, softly. "What is this for?"

"It's--uh-- to dry yourself."

"No..." Harlithethius shook his head. "Why did I shower?"

"I have to take you to meet someone," Louis said, handing him some clothes, "Here. Once you're dry, wear this. And this. And this."

Harlithethius picked up the suit and scowled. "It is too small."

"It is _not_ too small. It's the average size--! The aver--!" Louis halted, going bright red, and quickly realised his mistake.

"I see." A smile crept across Harlithethius' face. "It is your clothing."

"Give me it here," Louis took it back, and began nervously flattening out the creases, "It's fine, look, it'll fit you just fine-- You just need t--"

Harlithethius dropped the towel and wandered towards Louis' open wardrobe.

"I much prefer these," he said.

He'd picked up, much to Louis' annoyance, a pair of his favourite jogger bottoms.

"No. No way. No." Louis approached, a crease in his brow.

"They are big enough to fit," Harlithethius insisted, and Louis shook his head.

"Fine. Fine. You know what-- fine. Just wear them." Louis filed through his wardrobe, moody. "I don't suppose you gods wear pants, either."

He turned around, and Harlithethius had already slipped on the jogger bottoms. They were a lot more slender on him then they ever were on Louis: Louis realised that instantly. The difference was that Harlithethius could make it work, and so he did.

"Do we need pants?" He asked, curiously.

"Theoretically? Yes," Louis grimaced, pained. "But in practise, and because I don't want you to dirty mine, no. You need a shirt, by the way."

"This looks ample," Harlithethius said. He'd picked up one of Louis' baggy t-shirts, and looked to Louis for permission.

"Yeah, yeah. That's good," Louis waved his hand.

Harlithethius dressed, and whilst he did, Louis did too. In another room, of course. He may have seen Harlithethius in the nude, but that did not mean that fact had to be mutual.

"Okay," he said, once they were both ready, "I suppose we better go."

His companion had slotted the shoes Louis had already picked for him on: and they looked bloody ridiculous. At that point, however, Louis had lost the ability to complain.

"Does your _buddy_ believe in the gods?" Harlithethius asked, following Louis out of the apartment.

"Does anyone?" Louis replied, and that was obviously the wrong answer, because Harlithethius' face crumpled with dislike. "I'm sorry. That was rude. It's just the way things are these days."

"If so," Harlithethius summarised, "I do not like these days."

"Fair enough," Louis said, locking the door. And so they went.

-

"We need to think of a codename for you," Louis said, pressing the lift button. He assumed that making his new acquaintance climb ten flights of stairs wasn't the best course of action, even if he was incredibly annoying, "If you are who you say you are, I mean."

"I am who I say," Harlithethius frowned, as if the notion of lying was completely preposterous, "Why would I not be?"

"I know, I mean, but if you are really called that-- that long name--"

"Harlithethius."

"Har-li-the-thius," Louis nodded, "Yeah. Then we need a codename that's a little less conspicuous, yeah? To hide you, a little."

Harlithethius puffed his lips, exhaling a large sigh. "If you think we must hide, then we must."

The lift began to descend, and Harlithethius was panicked until he noticed Louis' calm expression. Upon noticing it, he calmed also, and placed his arms by his sides, as Louis did.

Louis laughed. "You've put a lot of faith in a complete stranger, haven't you?"

"My grandfather is the lord of the sky," Harlithethius said, a strange look on his face, "Those I do not have faith in, he shall smite."

That shut Louis up.

"Of course, I am the god of love," Harlithethius explained, a happy little smile on his face, "And I have faith in all creatures."

The lift doors opened, and as they exited, Louis saw what he hoped he wouldn't: people. Fortunately, they all seemed to be busy. Unfortunately, as they walked through the lobby, Harlithethius just so happened to catch the eye of everyone there. In the worst way.

"What did you do?" Louis stammered, quiet, as one by one, every person they passed halted in conversation and stared at them, gobsmacked.

"I am the god of love," Harlithethius whispered, "By definition, I am also the god of beauty, and sexual attraction."

"So you mean--" Louis crumpled his face. "So you mean they're all incredibly turned on right now?"

"Sexually stimulated, in love...However you would like to put it. It will pass."

"Oh God." Louis facepalmed as he saw his elderly neighbour drool at their passing. "I can't believe this is a thing."

"All those who believe in love feel it," Harlithethius smiled. "Why do you scowl? Sex is an ordinary part of life for many."

"It is something I really don't want to be thinking about in a crowded lobby," Louis pushed his way to the door, "Or looking at my older neighbour. Thanks."

They left the building onto a crowded street. Rush hour for people travelling to work had just begun, and so the pavement was packed. Most turned to gawp at Louis' companion as they passed, and Louis felt himself growing gradually more and more irritated at himself. Going out at that time was quite possibly the worst idea he'd ever had.

"There are a lot of people here," Harlithethius commented, and Louis rolled his eyes.

"It's London. There's people. Yeah."

They reached Louis' car: a battered Mini Cooper he refused to replace. While Louis got right in, Harlithethius came to a halt.

"I need assistance," he said, quietly.

"What?" Louis stuck his head out of the window. "Why?"

"I don't know how to--" Harlithethius said, sheepish, and motioned to the door.

"Oh," Louis leaned over, and opened the passenger door with a click.

"Thank you," Harlithethius flushed, getting in, and it occurred to Louis for the first time that gods may have had pride too. Which made that certain god's plead for help all the more significant.

He hadn't asked for help _directly_ \-- not yet. But Louis feared what he was going to ask, and knew there were only one or two things it could be. Somehow, not hearing the words out loud made it less real.

"Okay," Louis fastened his seatbelt, "Before we go any further, we need to give you a nickname. Because I can't be calling you Harleythesaurus all the time. I just can't."

"Harlithethius," Harlithethius said, with a smile.

"Yeah," Louis snorted, "That. So. Do you have any nicknames you know of?"

"A few," the man said, "But most of them are harder to pronounce than the full title."

"Okay," Louis frowned, and thought for a moment, "Well, let's go for a variation of your current one, for my sake. Harlithe. Harlit. Harli. Har--"

He froze. And a great thought came upon him.

"Harry," he said, beaming.

"Harry?" Harlithethius replied. And then, he beamed on back. "It's not...Awful."

"I like it," Louis nodded, and did up his seatbelt, "It doesn't sound like you're trying to wrestle with your own tongue when you say it, too."

Harry frowned, and crossed his arms. "Some where I am from would believe that Louis is a strange name."

"Well," Louis raised an eyebrow, "They're obviously all idiots."

"You do realise," Harry said, smiling as the car started up, "That I have no need for a seatbelt. Or this car."

"Oh, I know," Louis nodded, "I'm sure you could make a magic fairy portal to Wonderland anytime you'd like."

"You speak to a god," Harry blinked, "And, for your information, I cannot make any number of _'magic fairy portals'_."

Louis laughed, and began to drive. Harry turned, looking out of the window, his pale neck outstretched. An entire city went by before his eyes, and Louis couldn't imagine what it would be like, seeing it all for the first time. The lights and the glamour. The glass and the steel. The high rise and the hunched-in flats.

"Your world is strange," Harry said, "Everytime I return here, there are more square grey boxes than before."

"That's down to industrialisation," Louis shrugged, "And you know what they say. Money makes the world go 'round."

"It should not," Harry's expression saddened, and pink lips parted in a sigh, "But yet it does."

Louis quietly cleared his throat. "So you've been here before."

"Yes."

"You don't mind me asking when?"

"I have visited Earth a number of times."

"Why's that?"

Harry blinked, softly so. "I am the god of love, affection, and sexual desire. In being so, I have a duty to the world below. That duty is to spread as much love as I can, whenever I can."

"And that's what you've been doing."

"Mostly, yes," Harry closed his eyes, "The rest of the time, I reside with the rest of the gods."

"In Olympus, right?" Louis grinned.

"That is one word for it," Green eyes shuttled open to meet Louis', "The place goes by many names."

"So when's the last time you came here? You have any idea in terms of a date and time I'd understand?"

"The last time..." Harry looked away. "To this city...I believe it was...eight years ago. The last time before that was twenty three years ago."

"So," Louis calculated, "2009 and 1994. Good years."

Harry smiled. "Thank you."

"Doesn't explain why Sheila Lyvoninsky's on your ass, though," Louis said, and Harry's expression instantly darkened at the name, "If it was you that, you know, did all of the shit, what did you do to make her feel so bad?"

"I ruined her." Harry said, slowly. "I made a mistake."

They approached the firm, and Harry looked at the bronze sign: _TOMMO & PAYNE LLP, _ with a great deal of apprehension. For once, Louis did not blame him.

"It is an awfully long story to tell." Harry conceded, after a minute. He looked quite shaken, suddenly, as if all of the frowns in the world would not convey his hesitance towards the memory.

"Don't worry," Louis smiled, "I get the feeling we've got time."

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic is ridiculous. i love it.


	2. Chapter 2

ii. 

 

The first time Harry had seen Sheila Lyvoninsky, it was through the clouds.

That was how it worked. He'd be sat there, or here, or anywhere, and he'd feel a jolt within him, a skip in heartbeat that could only mean one thing: somewhere, there were two people, destined to be, that were not yet together. And the next thing he knew, he'd be flying there, with his bow and arrow in hand.

When he found her, she was on a balcony.

It was new year's day, fresh in the morning of 1994, and the air was cold, almost so it whipped across your skin. Harry flew to the balcony opposite, hidden in the dark, and watched the humans celebrate. The apartment she was in was packed: packed full of socialites and business people, all ringing in the new year. Fireworks hung in the sky; the best temporary decoration. Of all the nights of human happiness, Harry liked this one best.

Sheila was sad, however. She was a Harbell, then, not a Lyvoninsky, and young. She stood there, on the balcony, a glass in her hand, braids drifting in the wind. There was no sign of the steely resentment that resided in her features now. Instead, she was calm, peaceful, and hopelessly lonely.

Then! An interlude!

A man appeared from the double doors. He was Tim Lyvoninsky, a plump man, with kind eyes and a jittery soul. Harry felt the pull between them instantly, and mindlessly fired the first arrow.

It hit Tim in the chest, and for a moment, he paused, as if something was slightly awry. Harry held his breath, before leaning forward on the balcony, and firing the second. It hit Sheila, and she too looked around, suddenly awakened. The moment she did, they found each other, and began talking almost immediately.

Harry was pleased, about to leave: his work was done. But as he began to fly away, a firework exploded closer to him than he would like, and his full figure was illuminated by the flare of it. He was ready to swoop away, unbothered and unharmed, but they had seen.

They had seen him.

It was Sheila that he saw first: staring at him, her mouth slightly awry. Tim followed in turn, but there was no hostile reaction from either of them: they, for the moment, seemed extremely besotted. Waving, they followed Harry's silhouette across the sky until it was no longer visible, and, that, it seemed, was that.

-

"So they saw some bloke in the sky and thought-- hey, that's got to be Cupid?" Louis asked, frowning.

"I assumed," Harry played with his hands, still nervous, "That they put the pieces together. That they had probably figured out what I had done to them."

"But they didn't care, at the time. They didn't say anything."

"No," Harry looked down, "They did not. But now, they do."

"Now they want out, and they're angry," Louis guessed, and Harry nodded. "Any contact with them after that?"

"No," Harry sighed. "It would be immoral for me to make it, if they hate me as they say they do."

"Well-- nobody hates anyone here," Louis attempted to lighten the mood, "I mean, Sheila had an angry tv interview, but you never know? Tim might have a different story."

There was a silence, in which Harry looked at him in a way that told Louis that it probably wasn't likely. Louis cleared his throat, eager to have a second opinion on it, and opened the car door.

"It's probably best if you stay in the car for a few minutes," he advised, hanging around, "I'm not entirely sure how long it'll take me to explain this."

Harry nodded. "I understand."

He seemed peaceful. But, underneath his composure, he was endlessly nervous: Louis could tell. It was in the way he shuffled his fingertips, it was in the way he looked around. Louis knew the face of one who was watching their world slowly fall apart, but did not want to show it.

He knew because it had been his face, once.

"I'll be back," he promised, softened by the vulnerability visible, and entered the firm.

When he got there, Niall was on the phone, legs crossed. When he saw Louis, he frowned, slightly, deeply disturbed by the fact that Louis actually wiped his feet on the mat. Aside from that, the situation appeared completely normal.

"Niall," Louis approached the desk, impatience evident, "Hey. Where's Liam?"

"Upstairs," Niall said, "I think so, anyway."

"Do you know if he's got a client in?"

"I don't think so," Niall narrowed his eyes. "Why? Is everything alright?"

"Yeah," Louis said, without a beat, "Why wouldn't it be?"

"You're just acting a little shifty, is all," Niall attested, "I mean, you wiped your fuckin' feet. You never do that."

"I just need to see Liam," Louis tapped the desk, and started walking, "I'll explain everything later, I promise."

"Uh," Niall put his phone back to his ear, "Okayy."

Liam's office door was open when Louis got there, and that's because Liam was typing. Liam always liked a nicely ventilated room to type in, for some reason, and it used to irritate Louis to no end in their uni days. It may seem a hobby innocent enough, but it certainly wasn't when Liam got carried away writing in the toilet, or half dressed, or in any other compromising position.

Fortunately, he was not in any of those then. When Louis arrived, Liam was calm and composed, a slight knot in his brow, and his fingers moving like lightening.

"Louis!" He said, once he saw him. "You read my text?"

"Yeah," Louis sat, "Listen, there's something that I--"

"There's something I need to tell you too!" Liam said, and he sounded way too happy.

"Okay," Louis clenched the arms of the chair.

"Wait," Liam frowned, "You said yours was important, do you wanna go--"

"No, it's fine." Louis waved his hand, "You go first. Seriously."

He had hoped that prolonging his nerves would help calm him. However, he realised as soon as he allowed Liam to speak, that it had the complete opposite of effects.

"Okay," Liam giggled, and closed his laptop lid, "So, I did some digging, and I managed to get the contact number of Sheila Lyvoninsky's agent. He's a guy called Stan, really good, really nice. So Stan managed to find a hole in her schedule, and-- well. She's agreed to come around to the office!"

Louis paled. "She has?"

"Yeah!" Liam laughed with excitement, "I mean, isn't that great?"

No. It wasn't. It very much wasn't great, considering  that the very person she wanted to sue was sat in the passenger seat of Louis' Mini Cooper. Louis' fists clenched with tension, and he tried to think positive, considering how much getting contact with a potential client meant to Liam. Snapping at him, in this case, would solve nothing.

"But-- I mean," Louis closed his eyes, trying to imagine it through Liam's eyes, "Yeah it is-- but, why?"

Liam's expression clouded, the realisation dawning that Louis was not as excited as he should have been. "I-- I thought we could pitch our bid to be her prosecution or defence."

"Liam, we can't--" Louis pinched his nose. "You can't charisma your way into representing someone. You have to go through the legal process, you can't just--"

"Hey, it got us our last big case!" Liam argued, "I mean, Cowell & Co? When we took down that big-ass company? That was you and me, Lou! And we used charisma, we used passion, we used whatever we needed to get those people their money."

"That's different."

"How is this different?" Liam held his arms wide. "With Sheila on our side, she'll be able to get us a place on her team for sure. We'll be a part of the biggest case of the century, no doubt. And we'll be on the right side."

"I don't know, Li," Louis looked away, "It seems a little shifty to me."

Liam huffed. "I don't know what's up with you. You used to have so much passion for this shit. You used to want to win, no matter what, Lou? What happened to that?"

"I won," Louis insisted, "And I didn't like it. That's what happened."

Silence rang. Liam sighed, heavily, and ran his fingers through heavily quiffed strands of hair.

"Let's just meet her," he said, slowly, "And see. We'll meet her and see, and if you're really not sure, we can detach. If you really don't want to do this, we can be completely uninvolved, forget all about it, whatever you like. I don't care."

"Well..." Louis grimaced.

"What?" Liam frowned, deeper. "What is up with you, today, Louis? I just said we don't have to push this!"

Louis looked away. "It's not that I'm worried about."

"Then what?"

"Well...The completely uninvolved bit..." Louis itched at the back of his neck, "It's, uh, it's hard to explain."

"Try me." Liam's eyes were hard, deep, penetrating.

Louis sipped in a short breath, and closed his eyes.

"What would you say if I said I had an ancient Greek God in my car?"

"Louis," Liam stared at him for a moment, and then asked, bluntly, "Are you fucking with me?"

"Well..." Louis itched at his knee, "The thing is... I'm not."

Liam's expression was a mixture of a thousand emotions. Most notably: confusion, frustration, irritation. Louis could almost see his patience eroding away.

"I don't understand," Liam said, and Louis could tell he really, really, wanted to.

"Okay," Louis put his hands on his knees, "So let's say...Theoretically...That Sheila Lyvoninsky was telling the truth about Cupid ruining her life, or whatever."

"By...what?" Liam frowned, "Forcing her into marriage?"

"Well, yeah. With his, uh, bow and arrow, and stuff."

"Louis..." Liam shook his head, "Are you seriously suggesting that a _magical deity in a nappy_  mind controlled one of the worlds' biggest entrepreneurs?"

"No," Louis winced, "Well, yes. I might be."

"Jesus," Liam huffed, loud, and laid back in his chair.

"But he doesn't wear a nappy," Louis promised, "And there's no mind control, not really. Just-- argh, I know how this sounds. Just suspend your disbelief for a minute, okay?"

"Fine." Liam sighed. "What next?"

"So..." Playing with his hands, Louis began to think, "Say that this Cupid fellow turned up in my apartment last night, asking for legal protection."

"Your apartment." Liam blinked.

"Yesss," Louis grimaced, looking away.

"Cupid turned up in your apartment."

"Yeah," Louis twiddled his thumbs, "I mean, yeah. And he was naked, and he electrocuted me, and then he shot some people out of the window. Well, he shot them with an arrow, out of the window, technically, but--"

"This is absurd." Liam began to stand.

"Liam," Louis begged, standing too, "Come on, sit down."

"Lou, I don't have time for-- Whatever this is! Okay? I don't know if this is a prank, or just your sick idea of messing up our chances with Lyvoninsky, but--"

"I know how it sounds. I know. And it is absurd. It is. But please, just--" Louis clenched his fists, "I'm trying my best here."

"Your best at what?" Liam's brow furrowed, dangerously so. "Annoying me?"

There came a knock on the door, and Liam could not have made a quicker dash to answer it. Louis closed his eyes and twisted his mouth, helplessly. If Liam would not believe him, what the fuck was he meant to do? He couldn't deal with this-- whatever this was-- alone. He just couldn't.

"Who are you?" Liam said, suddenly.

Louis turned, and Harry was stood in the fucking doorway.

His hair was tousled, and he was wearing Louis' clothes, and oh God: Louis knew what it looked like. It looked like he'd just brought one of his one night stands to the office with him, for fuck's sake. And Liam seemed to be thinking the same thing.

"Louis Tomlinson," Harry said, looking at Louis with an expression of elation on his face, "I have made a new friend."

"You're not Louis," Liam scowled, "And who are you-- What are you doing here--"

He turned to Louis, who was walking quickly forwards, face reddening. "Harry, I told you to wait in the--"

"You asked me to wait for a few minutes," Harry explained, patiently, "And so I did. And so here I am."

Footsteps thundered up the stairs, and Niall stood in the doorway beside Harry, clearly out of breath.

"I'm so sorry," He panted, face red, "I tried to stop him, from, coming up. But he walked in, and I could've sworn I was straight before, and--"

"Louis," Liam said, suddenly quiet, "Who is this?"

Louis swallowed a huge breath. "Liam, Harry. Harry, Liam."

"Liam Payne!" Harry exclaimed, loudly. He shook Liam's hand, "Hero of men."

"I-- What?" Liam frowned, and Louis realised his speech was a little slower than usual. "Louis-- what--"

"Don't worry," Louis said, quickly, "It happens to everyone."

"It will pass," Harry promised, with a beaming smile. He walked past them, and began to look at Liam's office. "This space is colourful."

"What happened?" Niall laughed at Liam's gobsmacked impression. "Did he shite himself?"

"No-- it's," Louis flushed, "It's what happens to everyone who sees Harry. Cupid, I mean."

"I arouse sexual attraction in all humans," Harry looked out of the window, expression peaceful, "It is a part of life."

Liam slowly began emerging from his rut. "That's-- What's---"

"I told you the truth, Li," Louis said, passionately, "Every word. This bloke showed up in my apartment last night, and he's Cupid."

"Hah," Niall laughed, "Cupid as in the fat baby with the diaper."

Harry scowled. "I am _not_ a fat baby."

"There is no way--" Liam inhaled, eyes wide, "There is no way on Earth that--"

He gaped, lost for words, and Louis knew exactly how he felt. For someone who had also lived all twenty-four years of his life without knowing that a love god-- or any god-- existed, Louis admitted that it was a lot to take in. But especially for Liam, who relied on logic and strategy and the things he knew to be true, this realisation nothing short of realigned his universe.

Not everyone in the room shared this understanding of Liam, however. Niall stood watching as if this were a movie, and as for Harry-- Harry was under the impression that Liam needed some, well-- _further_ persuasion.

"Would you like me to show you?" He asked, face bright. A pink-laced cloud appeared in front of him, and from it, he slowly began lifting out a bow and arrow. The silver of them glinted in the sunlight.

"No-!" Louis hissed, dashing towards him, "Don't!"

Harry's face was blank. "I was merely going to--"

Louis knew what he was about to do. He'd seen Harry's eyes dart between Niall and Liam, and felt the thought process as if it were his own. He also knew that if Liam and Niall fell in love, things would be a shit ton more complicated, for a shit ton of reasons, not to mention what seeing them make out would do to Louis' mind.

"I don't think my friends are ready for that, just yet," He whispered, slowly lowering Harry's bow, "So let's just not, yeah?"

Harry watched him, closely, a deep sense of trust laced in his eyes.

"If you are sure," he said. There was a hint of disappointment in it.

"So you--" Liam spoke, for the first time in ages, "You make people fall in love with a bit of archery equipment."

"The bow and arrow are sacred objects," Harry explained, holding them up to show, "They allow me to fulfill my duty. The gold arrow spreads desire. The lead arrow spreads hatred. The bow is one that will never miss."

"Your duty," Liam repeated, blank faced.

"Yes, to spread love amongst all creatures," Harry blinked, as if it meant a perfect amount of sense, "Does your friend always speak like this?"

It took Louis a moment to realise the question was directed towards him. He smiled, bashfully, and itched the back of his head. "Uh, ah-- No. I don't think so. I think we're just trying to get our heads around this, is all."

"Oh," Harry said, with a brightness that said he understood, and he sat atop Liam's desk and swung his legs, "I really do not understand mortal architecture. It is all very square."

Niall laughed at that, hands in his pockets. "You have a point there."

"Louis," Liam said, paling. He touched Louis' arm. "I don't know how to-- This is--"

He closed his eyes.

"I need some time to just-- take this in. Sheila's coming around, with her agent, at some point, and I need to--" Liam inhaled, "I need to take some time. Because I'm freaking out."

Harry's head darted up. "Sheila is arriving?"

"Let me--" Liam looked away, "Let me do some client work. Let me do some other client work and I'll get back to you. On this. When I'm normal. I just-- he needs to leave."

He no doubt meant Harry. Louis felt something twist in his gut for reasons he knew not.

"Okay," he conceded, finally.

"Thank you," an expression of relief crossed Liam's face, but he still looked worried, "I'll get back to you about this when I'm-- When I'm over it. I just need to-- you know."

Louis nodded. Yeah, he knew. Liam's way of dealing with pretty much anything was distance, silence, and a whole ton of analytical deliberation. That's how he dealt with breaking up with his girlfriend during their last year of university. That's how he dealt with problems at home. It's how he dealt with-- anything, really. Louis, on the other hand? Louis yelled, cried, or slept until there was nothing left to yell, cry, or sleep over.

"Come on, Harry," he said, and with Niall in pursuit, they left the office.

Once outside, he was hit with a sense of abandonment. What now? He'd relied on Liam knowing what to do right away, but he probably should not have. And now, Liam was stressed out, confused, and probably even less likely to help than he was beforehand. Not only that, but he had a very confused love god, and a very amused receptionist to deal with, too.

Wait. That was it.

"Niall," Louis said, quickly turning, "What should I do?"

"Huh?"

"About, you know, " Louis nodded Harry's way, "What should I do?"

Harry was looking at the bannister with a strong sense of curiosity, running his fingertips along the various nudges and carvings along the top. Niall glanced at him and shrugged.

"Well, you've got nothin' to do today," he offered, "So do what you'd do with anyone new to the city. Take them around. Get some ice cream."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Louis raised an eyebrow, looking towards Harry once more, who was attempting to sit atop the bannister, "Ice cream?"

"I don't know what the fuck's going on, man," Niall shrugged once more, "But everything's better with ice cream."

-

And so it was.

They sat in a tiny cafe parlour a block away from the firm, in the window seat. Once the initial embarrassment of the entire cafe turning around to gape at Harry had passed, it wasn't so bad. Louis ordered for him because Harry didn't know what any of the items on the menu were, and then he had to teach him how to use a spoon.

Aside from that, things were...Okay.

"Your friend does not want to help me," Harry mused.

"Well, give him some credit," Louis shuffled, "You are a random guy from the sky with a bow and arrow who he never thought existed before."

"That is true," Harry said, "Although, everyone is non existent to someone at some point. If not, there would never be anything new."

Louis blinked at him.

"I guess... I guess you're right," he conceded, and took a bite of his ice cream.

Meanwhile, Harry had barely touched his, and had spent the time, instead, staring at it with a deep sense of apprehension.

"Is there something wrong?" Louis asked, after a bit, because it was getting strange.

"The food is leaking," Harry commented.

"Oh," Louis craned to look, and then laughed, "No. It's, uh, it's just melting."

"Why?"

"Ice cream does it when it's warm. It's why you've got to eat it quickly, and stuff."

"But what if I want to eat warm ice cream?" Harry frowned. "Must it not be solid?"

"Uhm, yeah." Louis shrugged. "You can't have the best of both worlds, unfortunately."

Harry frowned, deeply, at that, "This time is strange."

Louis snorted, and brushed fingers through his fringe. "What do you mean?"

"What was once circular is now square," Harry commented, looking through the window, "The buildings have all become cubes, and cars are everywhere, even when they are not needed. What was simple is now not. Instead of farming and fishing and building, the people work away from nature, and behind walls. Instead of love, people hate. They do not stay together then they should, and they do not part when it is obvious they should do so."

"Yeah," Louis sighed, "Tell me about it."

Harry leaned forward, suddenly, his eyes filled with ambition. His eyes were quite oval-shaped, now that Louis could picture them up close, and they were framed with lashes that were way too long for his own good. It was incredibly unfair how ethereal he looked, even for an ancient god. Louis could've sworn he had a type before, but now Harry had arrived, he couldn't even remember any other man's name.

"Tell me about the law," Harry said, definite.

"The law?" Louis smiled, "Uh, that's...That's a pretty big topic."

"I want to know."

"I mean, if you're sure..." Louis conceded, thinking about how to phrase it.

In all honesty, he couldn't help but feel a little happy about the question. It was his section of expertise, after all. God knows Louis couldn't tell Harry why the sky was blue, or why the world was the way it was. But explaining the law? That was a gift of a question, and, honestly, a relief.

"Okay, so," Louis scooped a big portion of his ice cream from the top of his tub, and placed it on his plate, "This is the government."

"Those who control," Harry stated, intent.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah. And this--" He scooped another scoop, slightly smaller, onto his plate, "These are the courts. They make laws, and they tell people what they can and can't do."

Harry nodded. "We have those in Olympia."

"Olympia?" Louis put his hand on his face, "Is that where you guys live?"

A big, pink smile curved on Harry's lips. "You 'guys'. You mean gods."

"Yeah," Louis snorted, despite himself, "Yeah, I suppose I do. Sorry if that was offensive."

"It was not," Harry blinked, slowly, "Do not worry. We have been called worse."

He paused before continuing, watching his ice cream slowly sink into liquid.

"We are a family," he said, quietly, "Up on Olympia. It is a collection of places, above where the human eye can see, and it is endlessly beautiful."

Louis smiled. "I can imagine."

"There are whirlpools made of stars," Harry explained, excitement building, "And trees made of gold. The ground beneath your feet is soft, but moldable, depending on the thoughts streaming through your mind. And there is not an inch of it's ground that is not pure, or alike any other."

"You sound like you love it."

"Yes," Harry's voice became very quiet, "I do. I cannot wait to be there once more."

"Why did you leave?" Louis asked, "I mean, I know you're here for the whole Sheila thing. But why do you have to be? Can't you just sit in your clouds and wait for it all to blow over?"

Harry laughed, quietly, before his face deepened with loss. "It is not that easy. Our grandfather does not take the subject of honour lightly."

"Zeus, you mean," Louis said, and then gasped, "Shit, am I being stereotypical? I don't mean to be. I mean, I'm sure he's got other names--"

"The grandfather goes by many names," Harry smiled, softly, "Zeus, Jupiter, Odin, Indra, Perun, are some. He controls the justice in Olympia, and so there are rules. He oversees what we do as well as the human world, and so when there is a question of our dignity, we must go forth and rectify it."

Harry itched at his arm, clearly unsettled.

"It is unfortunate," he said, "That whilst the dispute is in the air, we must be expelled from Olympia."

Louis gaped.

"No way," he said, frowning, "I mean, that's-- No way. That's fucking harsh."

"It is what it is," Harry shrugged, "It is to protect the other gods from this. I do not require pity for my own actions. I require aid. And that is why, if your friends cannot help me, that I must figure this out on my own."

"So what's the endgame, here?" Louis frowned, "You sort out the dispute with the Lyvoninskys, no matter the cost, and then you're home free?"

"Yes," Harry said, and his hands shook a little as he did so, "But it would be preferable if my honour remain intact in the process of it."

"So you'd like to win."

"I do not know," Harry muttered, bashful, "I do not know what to win means in terms of your process of law."

"Then I'll help you," Louis said, and it was a promise. He pointed to the scoop that symbolised the court once more, "So the court sets out laws, like your Zeus does. And when people break these laws, they go to court, to argue the problem out. Usually, they do this with the help of a lawyer or solicitor, like me or Liam."

"Heroes of men," Harry beamed, pleased with himself.

"Uh, yeah," Louis shifted, with a smirk, "So we help fight the case, but not physically. We win or lose with words, to convince a judge, who watches the case. Sometimes, with serious cases, there's a jury, too, and they're just a bunch of random people who get to make the final decision."

"When you were on the newspaper," Harry said, trying out the new word, "Did you win or lose?"

"We won, that one," Louis said, and he ate some of his ice cream, "Yeah. That was a good one."

"It made you famous," Harry mused.

"Yeah, I mean, for a bit," Louis shrugged, "But that isn't the point. The point is that the people we were arguing against-- uh, a company, Cowell & Co, they had to give a shit ton of money back to the people they employed, because they weren't treating them right. And then, the people who worked there, they could all stop working for life, and enjoy their lives."

Harry nodded, deep in thought. "What will Shelia get if she wins?"

"Well, I don't know," Louis said, "That'll be settled further on in the case. But if she's serious about suing you, and serious about blaming you for-- well-- her marriage, then she probably wants money. A shit ton of it. From you. But I don't know."

"Money," Harry repeated, and he appeared, suddenly, very angry, "Why would currency suffice?"

"Well, I don't know," Louis muttered, "It's the general way of settling things."

"Currency is not the equal of love," Harry said, stung, "If love was lost between her and Tim, then it is love that should be given back. Nothing else would compensate."

He clenched his spoon, cheeks pink, and brows low. Anger was not an emotion that fitted such a peaceful face, and for a second, Louis was taken aback by it. But then, he saw the tears begin to spring in Harry's eyes: glitter tears, hot and angered and feverish, and he realised that they were still in public.

"Hey," Louis leaned forwards, voice soft, "Hey. I know you're upset. It's okay."

"It is not okay," Harry replied, but he managed to blink his tears away, at least, "The cheapening of love is not something that I can take lightly."

"I understand that," Louis said, quietly, "I understand."

"She is selling a relationship," Harry commented, and the anger was beginning to ebb away, "She is selling her relationship so she is better off. She is giving up on her love."

"Sometimes, that's just the way it is," Louis looked down, "Sometimes, it's just the way people have the strength to go on."

"Through metal coins?" Harry's face twisted, repulsed. "I don't understand it."

"Well," Louis shifted, "Sometimes, those coins can buy other things that can make people happy, such as objects, like cars, or computers, or clothes or houses. Sometimes, they buy holidays, or transport, or education. And sometimes, they allow people to come together with others who are important in their life, or have some time to themselves."

Harry blinked, taking it in, and a single piece of glitter drifted down his cheek.

"For instance," Louis said, with a small smile, "When I was a kid, my mum used to take me to a pizza shop. It wasn't anywhere near here, and a very long time ago, but I can still remember it, because it made me really happy. It was a tiny pizza shop, and the pizza wasn't very good, but I loved having something different. I loved trying something new, and I loved spending time with her. Coins--- money, I mean, helped us experience that. And now I'll always love pizza, no matter how shit it is. And it'll make me happy. You know?"

Harry nodded, eyes wet, and rubbed his face on his arm. "I think I do."

"So sometimes, it's not always about just coins," Louis said, "I mean, I don't know why Sheila is doing this. She's angry about her relationship failing, sure. She's angry about their companies merging due to the relationship, sure. But there might be other things going on that we just don't know about."

There came a silence, in which Harry stared at his ice cream, deep in thought, and Louis ate his in peace.

"I do not know what I am going to do," Harry conceded, finally.

Louis looked up, and a soft expression wandered upon his face. "Me neither. But we'll figure it out."

Harry looked up, too, and there was a frown on his face. _"We_ _?"_

"Hey," Louis looked away, blushing, "I can't exactly just leave you here, watching your ice cream melt, can I?"

"You could," Harry spoke, "If you desired to."

"Well, I don't desire to," Louis pulled up his sleeves, "What I want to do is sort you out with the basics, in the very least."

Harry's frown lifted. "The basics?"

"You know," Louis grinned, shrugging, "Clothes, food, a house, the basics...Until I can figure out a plan. Until this all blows over, I mean."

"I will humour you in your sorting of the basics," Harry said, face bright, "Although…"

He paused, and Louis looked at him. "What is it?"

Harry stared at his ice cream, concern on his face.

"It is strange," he commented, "I do not see what there is to blow.”

-

The quips and traits of humans never failed to surprise Harry, even when he thought there was no more to learn. The afternoon was new as Louis lead him down a crowded street, across a crowded road, and towards a building that looked like an igloo. Louis soon informed him, however, that it was not an igloo.

"This is a shopping centre," he explained, waving a small arm in the air, "You buy shit here. Well, not, you know, _literal_ shit. But clothes. And pretty much anything, really."

Pretty much anything? That opened up an entire stream of thought for Harry. He thought about all of the things he had seen on the mortal world so far, and imagined them all fitting inside one building. It seemed impossible, in many ways. But if Harry had learned anything about humans, it was that they summarised concepts, feelings, objects so much that they became impossible to understand. Most times, it was easier just to be shown.

"Come on," Louis said, encouragingly, and tugged him forwards.

Harry thought they were going straight ahead, but then he hit a pane of glass, and then that pane of glass began to move, and he was sure he was being tricked (by Dolos, the god of deception, perhaps?). He kept walking, and walking, and pushing on the glass, but it would not move, and the world would not stop spinning. Frustration grew within him, and it was only when he heard a noise, a strange noise, that he halted his movement.

He turned and Louis was on the other side of the glass, laughing. It was a strange sight to see, mostly because he had never seen such an expression on him before, or any human, up this close. Up close, he saw that in deep laughter, crinkles beside the eyes arose, and within the eyes sat only joy.

Infected by it, he began to smile too. Then, he wondered why he was smiling.

"I'm sorry," Louis said, "That was just too funny."

"Hey! Hurry up! I've got places to be!"

Harry turned, and there were others stood behind him, angry expressions on their faces. Even though their emotions soon melted into delight, and awe, at Harry's complexion, it was quite confusing to see so many angry. After all, he had hardly done anything wrong.

"Push on the glass," Louis said, from the other side, "You're holding them up."

"My arms are stationary," Harry said, looking down.

"No, like-" Louis rolled his eyes. "Push on the glass."

Harry did not understand how that was any different to what he had been doing before, but he did nonetheless. Just as he began to fall into that same pace again,  a hand darted out, and the next thing he knew, he was inside. Louis had grabbed him, and pulled him out of the trap, and for that he was immensely grateful.

"Thank you," Harry said, beaming, "That vice would not set me free."

"It's a rotating door," Louis explained, "Not a vice."

"Why did you say that I was carrying those people?" Harry asked, watching them use the door, as Harry had before him.

"Holding someone up also means to stop someone from going somewhere because you're being slow," Louis said, "I mean, it also means the other thing too, but..."

Harry turned to him, but that was when he caught a glimpse of the shopping centre around them, and his eyes widened in awe.

Glass was everywhere, for starters. It was used instead of walls, it was used instead of ceiling, and it was used on the strange, metal sets of stairs. The building appeared partly transparent because of it, and Harry could see the people inside the little rooms inside the building, and the people outside, and the sky above, through the ceiling, which seemed so incredibly far away. The rooms went up and up and up and up, and there were so many people.

So many people. The ground was heaving, and Harry wasn't sure he'd ever seen so many humans in one place at the same time.

"It's pretty cool, right?" Louis grinned at Harry's reaction, "Bet you don't have these in Olympia."

"No," Harry commented, eyes wide, "We certainly do not."

In Olympia, there was no currency, and thus, no need for such a building. Harry was sure that the gods would not approve of such a place.

"We better start in the underwear store first," Louis said, beginning to walk, and despite the enchanting view around them, Harry felt compelled to follow, "Because, you know, pants are pants."

"I do not see the point of constricting ones' lower area," Harry replied, allowing Louis to tug him forwards, "It seems quite counter-productive."

"How come?"

"Well," Harry began, "Humans must eat, must they not? And when they eat, they must also excrete, and--"

"--Okay, okay," Louis flushed red, "Point taken."

"I just do not see the point of having to get it out, and put it back in again," Harry halted, eyes wide once more, "What is that?"

They stopped outside a room filled with black swirling, moving objects, with lights and flares and flashing coming from all around. Louis came to a halt beside him, and placed his hands on his hips.

"It's a gamer store," he explained.

"And what is it's purpose?" Harry put his hand on the glass.

"Well, it's where people buy gaming equipment. Or, you know, cool electronic stuff," Louis looked at him, "You like it?"

"I want to know why the box is flying," Harry said, intent.

"Oh, that's not a box," Louis huffed, "It's a drone."

Harry glanced at him, highly confused. Louis' explanation had only deepened Harry's confusion.

"It's used to spy on people," Louis shrugged, "Not the coolest of things."

"Then I do not want one," Harry said, "What is that?"

He pointed to a glowing orb in the corner of the shop's window.

"That's a plasma ball," Louis put his hands in his pockets, "It's pretty cool. I used to have one as a kid."

"I would like one too," Harry said, definite.

"Ahhh," Louis grimaced, tugging him away, "Maybe later."

Harry did not understand, but he did not protest. Humans were very strange sometimes.

-

They ended up in what Louis believed was an underwear store. However, Harry did not see much underwear. There were lines upon lines upon lines of other clothing, though, the most repetitive of which looked like a number eight, sideways. Harry could not understand the purpose of such an object. Was it padding, of some sort? A hat?

Harry assumed they must have been hats, so on their way through, he picked one up, and placed it on his head. It was no wreath, but it was not, in the slightest, uncomfortable. Some things in the human world just made sense.

"Now," Louis said, once they reached the area they were looking for, "I don't know what size you wear, so I might just have to guess."

He flicked through a rack of clothing, and produced a few pairs of what appeared to be tiny shorts.

"Okay, these should--" He turned, and then, halted in his footsteps, expression going blank.

Harry frowned, and looked behind him. What was going on? Had he finally been affected by Harry's godliness? Was something terribly, terribly wrong?

"Harry," he said, paling, "Why the fuck is there a bra on your head?"

"A what?" Harry frowned, reaching for his hair, "I do not understand."

"A-- A bra. There's a fucking--" Louis shook his head, impatient, and removed the hat from Harry's curls. "Oh my God."

"That is my hat," Harry protested, lightly.

"This is a bra, Harry," Louis blinked, "It, it's a piece of underwear. It goes over women's boobs, see?"

He placed it over his own chest.

"But it does nothing there," Harry said, plainly. "At least on my head it proved productive."

"No, it's not meant for me," Louis shook his head, and put it back on the rack, "It's meant for people who want to wear them. Not you, I mean. Just--"

He sighed, quickly reddening.

"Just go and try these on, okay?" Louis pointed. "There's a room, over there, that you go in."

Harry blinked, and looked at the items in Louis' hand.

"A changing room?" Louis said, pained.

"Gods do not wear clothes," Harry said, "We have no need for such a room."

Louis sighed. "I know. Let's just-- Argh. I'll show you."

He walked Harry to a corridor that contained tiny rooms, their entrances guarded by curtains. Harry frowned: what a strange idea! Stood at the entrance was a woman who gaped at Harry, and whilst she did, Louis took a plaque from her that said: four.

"Those were her plaques!" Harry gasped. "You stole them!"

"I didn't steal them," Louis said, "We're giving them back."

"But they have a four on them?" Harry said, bewildered, as Louis walked him into a room. "Why four?"

"You've got four pants to try on," Louis said, and shoved the clothing into Harry's chest, "Here. Just put them one, one at a time, and tell me which one that fits best, okay? Don't come out. Just stay in there, try them on, and then put the joggers back on."

Harry nodded. "Okay."

He stood in the room, lightly confused, and put on the first pair of pants. It took him a moment to realise that he should probably have taken the joggers off beforehand, as he had not seen anyone wearing their clothing in such a formation. So, he did, and once the joggers were off, realised that he could not feel his crotch anymore.

"How are you doing?" Louis asked. He was stood outside: Harry could see his shoes from beneath the curtain.

In response he threw the first pair of pants beneath the curtain. Louis gasped, picking them up, and standing in front of the curtain once more.

"Oi!" He shout-whispered, which Harry thought sounded hilarious. "What was that for?"

"They do not fit," Harry said, "They were too tight."

"That doesn't mean you've got to throw them at me!" Louis stomped his foot, "I mean, for starters, that's gross, and for seconds, you haven't even thrown the bloody hanger over too--"

Harry threw the strange, bent piece of plastic that it came with, which he guessed was called a "hanger". Louis swore at that, as it hit his feet, and Harry realised he should probably be more gentle around mortals such as he, as he had more strength than he would like to admit. With this in mind, he did not throw anymore pants, and tried each of them on, and on, in succession, until he found a pair that did not hurt.

In jubilation he cast the curtain aside. Much to his horror, it opened just as a group of girls were walking past.

"Oh my gosh!" They said, enchanted, and then began to giggle.

"Are you single?" Another asked.

"Hey!" Louis said, walking back down the corridor. "Hey, hey, hey! Scramble!"

"Oh shit, sorry!" The girls said, and, in unison, winked, before scampering on down to another changing room.

Louis sighed, shaking his head, and froze once he reached Harry. "You know, I did tell you not to come out."

"I do not like underwear," Harry explained, hastily, "They hurt, mostly. These ones do not hurt, and I am glad. But I do not understand the rest of them. They are quite confining."

"Well," Louis said, shrugging, "It's not my fault you've got a big dick."

A pause. Louis rapidly went red.

"I cannot believe I just fucking said that," he said, putting his hand on his face, "I'm-- I'm so-- Fuck's sake. Fuck's sake."

"It is alright," Harry patted him on the shoulder, "It is quite okay."

He had not encountered human embarrassment at such close range before, but he knew how to deal with it. Usually, a pat on the shoulder, and a quick escape proved successful in saving both the embarrassed and those around them.

And so, that's what he did. When he came out of the changing room, Louis was still bright red. But at least he was making an attempt in patching over his mistake of words.

"Okay," he said, softly, "I suppose we better go get the rest of your stuff."

-

In the end, Louis regretted giving Harry his own choice of clothes. Because, when left to roam freely around a department store, he emerged with:

  1. Not one, not two, but three, ruffled, white, designer shirts, costing an extortionate amount each
  2. Flared trousers (ten pairs)
  3. Striped cat socks (an odd number, somehow)
  4. A pink, glittery, scarf, and a choker to match
  5. A baggy Rick Astley t-shirt
  6. Bright gold boots (two pairs), fluffy green sandals (five pairs)



And finally:

  1. A bra.



"You're not buying that last one," Louis said, disbelievingly.

"I need something to keep my head warm," Harry defended, bottom lip sticking out, "You have one."

"Yes, but this is a cap," Louis enthused, taking it off his head, "It's meant to go on your head. A bra-- really isn't."

Harry blinked, unmoving, the huge pile of clothes still in his hands. Louis sighed, heavily, knowing that his mood wasn't going to change.

"Fine," he conceded, "Let's just go pay."

They reached the checkout, which was frustrating, because they had to wait for the store assistant to get over their little love obsession with Harry, and then they had to wait for them to scan everything, which took twice as long, because Harry did not want to hand his clothing over.

"It's not yours yet," Louis had to whisper, "Just wait a second."

Harry did not like that concept, and crossed his arms, grumbling "I am a god," for the rest of the session.

The total for the clothes was-- high. But Louis could afford it, having barely chipped into his savings account for years. He paid, highly afraid of what he'd just bought himself into, and handed Harry the bags.

"Now they're yours," he said, and there was a certain satisfaction in it.

Harry beamed as if that was the greatest news in the entire world, and held onto the bags for dear life. His expression became one of pure joy, pure happiness, and Louis had to make sure he didn't skip out of the store as they walked.

"Okay," he said, holding onto Harry's sleeve, "I think the exit is this way."

"But what about the people?" Harry asked, bewildered.

"What people?"

Louis turned. Harry was staring towards the charity workers stood amongst the crowd, trying helplessly to raise money for the tree foundation. They were helpless buoys in an unrelentless tide of people, bright greens against the hustle and bustle of everyday shoppers.

"They're asking for money, Harry," Louis tried to explain, but how could he? "We don't have time to talk to them right now."

"But-- I like trees." Harry said, and smiled Louis' way. "I'll only be a minute."

"Harry--" Louis protested. "Harry, no--"

Harry began to walk, quickly, and Louis had no choice but to follow. The crowd was thickening as the shopping centre reached peak time, and it was becoming harder and harder to move.

"Harry!" Louis hissed.

When he managed to break the crowd, Harry was already in animated conversation with the charity worker, and she was currently holding his bow and arrow in her hand.

"Should this do as payment?" He was asking, "It's one of a kind, and very rare."

"It looks like diamond!" She commented, in awe, "Gosh!"

"Harry," Louis frowned, deeply, coming between them, "What are you doing?"

"I'm helping the trees," Harry attested. His eyes deepened with the truth of it.

"Harry," Louis sighed, sympathetically, "You can't give away your bow and arrow."

"But-- the trees--?"

The woman grinned, excessively, her massive leaf earrings wobbling to and fro. "This donation will definitely go to a great cause planting Cacti worldwide!"

"Oh, great," Louis rolled his eyes, and took back the bow and arrow, "I'm sorry, but these aren't for donation."

"Louis--" Harry gasped, highly affronted.

"Here, just--" Louis handed him a five pound note, "Give her this, instead, okay?"

"But she said they need all of the help they can get."

"They all say that," Louis said, and began to walk, "Come on."

He watched Harry sadly give the woman a five pound note, hold her hands, and whisper something into them. After this, he left her, and caught up.

"What did you do to her?" Louis asked, thoroughly confused.

"I promised her love," Harry replied, downcast, "I could not help the trees, but I could give her that one day."

"Oh," Louis said, "That's nice, I guess."

"Louis," Harry asked, suddenly, as they began to exit the shopping centre, "Have you ever been in love?"

"Uh," Louis looked away, "Not really."

"I find that hard to believe," Harry insisted.

"And why's that?" They boarded an escalator, upon which Harry looked very startled.

"Well, you are nice and you have money," Harry blinked, "Is that not the human recipe for success?"

Louis laughed at that. "Well, I didn't always have money. And I wasn't always nice."

"So you have fallen in love before."

"It's not something I really talk about," Louis admitted.

"Why?"

Louis thought about why, and the reason made his chest feel all cold, as if a sudden, endless, pressure was being forced upon it.

"It's a long story," he said, in response, and quickly changed the subject. "Hey, is that a pizza place?"

-

Harry decided he liked pizza, mostly because it tasted very nice, and it felt warm, on his hands, and in his stomach.

"It is not necessary for gods to eat," he explained, while they ate, "But it is nice to do so, every now and then."

"Hah," Louis snorted, "So it's like facial hair, then."

"Well," Harry shrugged, "In a way."

"Can gods even grow facial hair?" Louis asked.

"Is that a question you have had for a long time?"

Louis laughed. "Maybe."

"We can do anything with our appearance that we wish," Harry crossed his arms on the table, "But it is tiring to maintain any changes, so we often are as we are."

"So you've looked like that for centuries?" Louis asked.

"Well-- minus a few changes, yes."

"Holy fuck," Louis commented, and then let out a snort, "That's so cool. How old actually are you?"

"I am not sure," Harry admitted, "There is no real date of birth for gods. One day, we existed, and one day, we didn't."

"But you have a mother, right?" Louis rested his head on his hand. "Venus, or something?"

"Her most common name is Aphrodite, but Venus is another," Harry spoke, "Whilst she was made from sea foam, there are no tales of my story of origin."

"I mean, that's fair enough," Louis nodded, "I mean, me, I just came out the traditional way."

Harry laughed at that, and he evidently surprised Louis with the sound, because he started laughing too. He really did look quite lovely when he was laughing, or smiling, and Harry could not believe that he had not fallen in love, or had someone fall in love with him. Even by _god_  standards, he was quite appealing: blue, soft eyes, that lay deep in his face, protected by a fence of eyelashes, slight stubble, and delicate, sloping cheekbones.

The only note Harry had against his case was his hair, which resided scruffily and messily atop his head, but even then, that seemed to have it's odd little charm about it. Yes. The truth was, Louis was quite attractive, and that was by a god's standards. Harry could not begin to imagine what he appeared like to the average human, passing him on the street.

"So," Louis said, interlinking his hands, "We need to think of a plan for what you do, in the short term."

"You do not need to provide a place for me to stay," Harry offered. "I am quite nomadic and need no sleep."

"As I've been told," Louis said, with a smile, "But I think, until Liam's made his mind up, you should stay somewhere near us for a bit. Near me, I mean. If that's what you want."

Harry thought on it for a while. "I would like to see your dog again."

"I mean," Louis became jittery, obviously unsure of his offer, "It would only be for the short term. The press are probably going to get real obsessed with this case, real soon. And as there's no real way for us to communicate with one another outside of being in the same room... it's probably best to stay close, just for now."

"What if Liam makes his mind up in a bad way?" Harry asked, and it was a fair question.

He needed to know what to do if Louis did not have all of the answers, and did not hold the key to him going home. He needed to know that he was not alone, and that he would not be left on the mortal world forever, away from his family and all he held dear. He needed to know a lot of things.

"Well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Louis huffed, "But until then, I guess we're stuck together."

"We are pizza slices," Harry commented, wrestling with his food, and Louis looked at him in wonder. "Stuck together."

"Would you look at that," he said, blinking: "A poet in the making."

-

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> harry is the lovechild of spock and thor you're welcome  
> [p.s fancy giving this a reblog? https://rhuubarb.tumblr.com/post/162639587883/cupids-defence-by-rhuubarb-length-92k]


	3. Chapter 3

iii.

 

When the doorbell rang the next morning, Louis answered. Usually, it wouldn't have been a problem, but since there was a Greek God staying in his apartment, the place was a tip. He had to step over countless piles of clothes in order to get to the door, not to mention the glitter strewn everywhere: on the walls, on the carpet, on the light switches. It was ridiculous.

Harry was asleep on the sofa, his big limbs spread everywhere, and the bra snugly seated on his head. Louis fought the urge to remove it and walked on. If he had learned one thing, it was that gods were not only very silly, but endlessly insistent upon the strangest of things. He didn't even need to sleep, for fuck's sake.

Louis opened the door, and it was Liam. He looked alien there, in Louis' doorway, in a dark peppermint suit and circular glasses. Then again, Liam had the extraordinary gift of looking alien anywhere that wasn't a workplace. He cleared his throat, awkwardly so.

"Can I come in?" He asked.

"Uh, yeah," Louis said, cautiously, "Sure."

Liam stepped in, and Louis instantly felt underdressed. If Liam was about to give him some bad news, he'd prefer it if he wasn't wearing his pyjamas to receive it.

"Tidy as always, Lou," Liam remarked, looking at the mess.

Louis laughed, awkwardly, and stumbled over, beginning to pick up cola cans and cereal boxes as he walked. "It's mostly just, uh, stuff I was about to put away anyway...This wasn't gunna stay here."

"Ah yeah," Liam laughed, richly, "Sure."

As Louis rushed to the bin, Liam stopped in the doorway of the living room, a quizzical look on his face. When Louis scurried over to share his view, he found himself looking at Harry, still asleep on the sofa.

"He's here," Liam commented, blandly.

"Uh," Louis scratched the back of his hair, "Yeah."

"I didn't know..." Liam trailed, "I mean, are you two..."

Louis paused. And then, realising the implication, stared at him.

"Oh-- no! He's not here because--No, no. No. We're not--" He went bright red, "Harry and I, we're not-- He's just staying here!"

"But he barely knows you," Liam blinked.

"He barely knows anyone!" Louis threw his hands in the air, "And just because he's in my apartment and he's asleep doesn't mean that we slept together. Or are sleeping together. At ALL. Jesus."

"Okay," Liam looked at Harry once more, "I was just making sure."

"Why does it matter to you, anyway?" Louis slowly felt himself become twitchy, "You weren't gunna take on the case in the first place."

"Well," Liam grimaced, "About that."

He began to walk, and Louis followed in pursuit. They made their way to Louis' kitchen, where Angie was fast asleep on the counter, and the mid-morning light was just beginning to creep up the walls, the loveliest pigment of warmth. Louis squinted in the face of it.

"I've had a think about the case," Liam announced, slowly, "And even though it's absurd, I met with Sheila, and she seems very intent on following through with it."

"She genuinely thinks Harry is to blame for her marriage," Louis stated, "I mean, it's failures, and stuff."

"In a bland term- yes," Liam kneaded his hands, "But through a legal lens, she's blaming him for the integration of both hers and Tim's companies, put into affect as a result of their marriage."

"I don't understand," Louis said, frowning, "Why is that a bad thing?"

"Upon merging, the company became unstable," Liam explained, one hand in his pocket, "Together, their divisions failed. And they've lost a shit ton of money over the past few years. I guess now she's just had enough."

"And she's blaming Harry for it a hundred percent," Louis stated, hand on his hip, "I mean, doesn't Tim have something to say about this too?"

"That's the worst part," Liam said, "Tim agrees. They're suing as a joint unit."

"Fuck." 

Louis watched the sunlight creep up the kitchen walls and thought about Harry's odds. One bewildered, outspoken Greek God with limited knowledge of the modern world, little to no understanding of his legal rights, against two middle-aged multi-millionaires with an army of legal advisers, solicitors, and the press at their side.

It was safe to say that his odds did not look good.

"Listen," Liam said, and he sounded laboured, "I-- I'm willing to hear him out. Even if it's for a few minutes, and even if we have to turn him down further down the line. The truth is, this will be the case of the century, regardless of the result. I mean, the legal rights of a deity? The liability of said deity for their actions here? That's new legal terrain. And I would be lying if I said I wouldn't like to take a crack at it."

"But-" Louis said, lifelessly, "Sheila."

"Sheila doesn't want us, Lou," Liam sighed, "I tried my best. But she can't rely on our performance under press pressure after our last big case."

Louis made a face. "That's-- stupid."

Liam nodded. "I thought so too. Which is why I thought, _fuck it_. There's a perfectly good stack of boring old legal cases at the firm, or there's a guy claiming to be the defendant in the strangest case I've ever seen, waiting at my fingertips. We have to give it a try."

"So you're willing to talk to him," Louis said. He could not believe his ears. "Get the facts."

"For now," Liam nodded, "If that's okay."

"It's more than okay, Li," Louis beamed, "It's fucking brilliant."

He embraced Liam in a tight hug, the likes of which Liam clearly didn't know how to deal with. He swayed, awkwardly, in Louis' arms, and patted him on the back. 

Louis took a step away, helplessly excited. There was nothing he could do about it. Shamelessly, he was feeling the same old emotions: Payne and Tommo, back at it again- against the whole fuckin' world.

It had been a long time. 

-

Louis left to put on a cuppa whilst Liam began his little 'interview'. When he came back, Harry was awake, weary and blinking, and had _wings._

"Whoa," Louis said, cups in his hands.

He stalled in the doorway, eyes taking in the things: which were, undoubtedly, massive. They were a pale pink, soft and fragile, and spanned the entire width of the sofa he was on, sprouting from his back with no problems at all. Harry looked up, hair tousled, and Liam, from the other side of the coffee table, did too. There was a notebook in his hands.

" _Whoa_ ," Harry repeated, studious, " _Whoa_ what?"

"Those are new," Louis gestured, and Harry looked beside him, "When did those come out?"  
  
The question was directed at Liam. But Harry, sleep-wrought and pink-cheeked, managed to draw out a reply, "They just pop out, sometimes."

 _Just pop out?_ Louis raised an eyebrow at the expression. Already, it seemed, Harry was replacing his god-like over-formality with the expressions of others. 

"And you can't control that?" He asked, sitting down beside Liam, and putting the teacups down on the table.

Harry eyed the teacups, suspicious. "Sometimes."

Liam sighed with the expression of one who really needed a cup of tea, "Thanks, Lou."

"You're welcome," Louis said, and in doing so, took a peek at Liam's notebook.

_1\. Not native to modern society_

_2\. 'Gods' have no obligation that binds them to listen to human law_

_3\. Doesn't have to be here aside from the issue of pride-- More powerful than us? Range of powers unknown._

_4\. Questioning, literal, and entitled (to an extent)_

Louis reached over and added a fifth note:

_5\. Has fucking wings_

Liam scribbled one in reply with one hand, whilst sipping tea with the other.

_6\. Can he read?????_

They both looked up in fear. Thankfully, Harry was staring at the cup of tea in front of him: quietly, furiously, attempting to understand what it meant. Surely gods drank? On second thought, Louis realised there was no reason why they should have done. They didn't need to eat, or sleep: why the fuck would they need to drink?

"Uh, it's a drink," Louis offered, softly so, "You can have it if you like."

Harry glanced at him deeply, with trusting eyes, before diving in, and downing the entire thing. Considering it was boiling hot at the time, and with not much milk, Louis' eyes were wide and shocked, and he was all but ready to dive forwards and take the cup away. But if he was looking for some grievous injury, he was not to find it. Harry's mouth barely steamed, let alone burned, and he smacked his lips together with a strong sense of satisfaction.

"This is a refreshing beverage," he announced, in approval, "You should be very proud."

"Uh," Louis shrugged, "Ah, thanks."

In the corner of his eye, he saw Liam scrawl down:

_7\. Absolutely NO problems with 3rd degree burns. Is he invincible???_

Louis raised an eyebrow.

"Ask him," he said.

"Ask me what?" Harry blinked, and that was when Angie came into the room, basically pouncing onto Harry's lap.

His face split with excitement, and a gummy, warm smile arose. It blossomed from him, the best kind of flower, and changed the aura of the room like the turn of a page. He obviously enjoyed her company more than Louis and Liam's: Louis wondered why?  
  
"Uh," Liam itched the back of his head, "Not trying to be brash, but are you able to die?"

Harry blinked, slowly, and ran his fingertips along Angie's back. He looked his most celestial, then: deep in thought, a whole world dancing beneath his eyes. Louis could almost see him recollecting times long lost.

"No," he murmured, eventually, "Not in this form."

"What does that mean?" Liam asked, intent.

Harry glanced from him, then to Louis.

"It means that if we were to give up our title as a god, we would take on another form, and no longer be immortal," his voice was paced, soft, quiet, "But as long as we remain gods, we all remain immortal."

"I see," Liam put his pen in his mouth, "So gods can't kill other gods, for example?"

A darkness rose upon Harry's brow.

"I do not see why we would," he spoke, coldly. It was a dangerous tone, and a dangerous mood for the room to sink into, and Louis could quickly feel himself getting fidgety. So, in the hopes of saving it, Louis swooped in to intervene.

"Do gods tend to like dogs?" He asked, cheerfully, "I mean, generally?"

Harry's expression lightened, but he still glared daggers at Liam. "We share a connection with all wildlife, as well as all plants. The same strings of life that they are made of, we wield."

"But humans?" Liam pressed, confusion on his face. "Aren't humans part of the string of life, or whatever?"

"They stem from it," Harry glared, "But they are not innocent, as wildlife, or plants, are. They will commit awful things, and lay waste to the principles of the gods."

"But they can also be nice," Louis offered, again saving the tone, "I mean, me mum was no believer in God, I'll tell you that now. But she was the sweetest person you'd ever meet. And, as far as humans go, she never acted way above the rest. She just _was_ , you know?"  
  
Silence fell, but it was a deep and careful one, in which both Harry and Liam stopped for thought. Harry looked down, suddenly, and a single glitter-filled tear darted down his cheek.

"Did he just--" Liam stared, and nearly dropped his tea.

Harry sniffed, and Louis' stomach filled with a strange feeling of concern.

"I--" Liam blinked, extraordinarily quickly. "-- Is that-- _glitter?"_

"Harry?" Louis asked, diplomatically ignoring Liam. "Harry, what's wrong?"

Harry stroked Angie, who licked at his hands. "I am sorry,"

"For-- for what?" Louis leaned in, completely, and honestly, confused.

"For your loss, Louis," Harry's mouth contorted in sorrow, "I am sorry for your loss."

Louis shifted, uncomfortable.

"I am so sorry," Harry breathed, and wiped away another tear.

Liam stood, awkwardly so, and made a stiff gesture to the bathroom. "I'll go and get some-- tissue," he said.

That, of course, left Harry and Louis alone. Louis just stared at Harry, who was very quietly crying, and wondered what to say.

"Don't cry," he said, "Please. I'm-- I'm okay. It's been a year, and, I'm okay with it. Really."

Harry continued to cry, and Angie began licking at his face, misunderstanding. Louis watched it, and felt the memories pour in, and gradually felt himself becoming more and more fidgety. He needed to _move._

"It's--" he began, and he settled for tucking his hands beneath his thighs, "Okay. It's-- you know. But, it's okay. You know?"

"I understand," Harry murmured, and another fat tear drifted down his cheek, "Oh, Louis. I understand."

Louis shifted, uncomfortable, yet quietened. He wondered how Harry knew. 

"I can feel the love for her you have," Harry said, softly, as if he heard, "I could not think of what it was before. But it is all over you."

His long, big fingers stroked Angie's ears.

"And her," he whispered, eyes wet with glitter, "Her too."  
  
"Yeah," Louis said, itching at his knee, "I mean, she was the family dog. _Is,_ I mean. Yeah. Mum loved her."

"She loved you both," Harry emitted a little smile. 

Footsteps pattered their way, and Liam came back with tissues, as promised, placing them beside Harry as if he had the plague. Harry blew into them, unexpectedly noisily, which caused Angie to jump from his lap and wander elsewhere.

"Everything okay?" Liam asked, sitting back down.

Harry nodded, wetly, and Louis did too.

"Yeah," Louis breathed, looking down, "We're-- we're all good."  
  
"So, I--" Liam picked up his notebook once more, "Harry. I'd like to ask you some questions about the case, if you don't mind."  
  
The wings began to fold inwards once more, and Louis watched the transition, which imbued a deep sense of calm within him. He could not explain it. The motion was soft, yet fast, like the ebbing wick of a candle, or a rapidly retreating sunset. The fact that Harry's wings looked as natural as they did, in the midst of all of the absurdity going on, was probably the strangest thing about that meeting.

"You may ask them," Harry said. He made eye contact with Louis, and when Louis minutely smiled, a silent  _are you okay?,_ Louis was very surprised when he replied in kind. 

"When you met, and shot, uh...Sheila," Liam played with his glasses, "With your arrow, of course. Was there any chance you knew what was going to happen?"

Harry shifted, and a depth arose in his eyes. "I do not understand."

"Was there any chance you knew what was going to happen?" Liam pressed, "Aside from them falling in love, of course."

"I only knew that they would fall in love," Harry placed his hands on his lap, "Because that is what happens."

"So you've got no future-seeing powers, then."

"No," Harry shook his head, "Not at all."

"So youu, uh," Liam scribbled something down, "When you shoot people, with your, uhm, arrows. Has anything ever gone wrong with them before?"  
  
Harry looked up, sharply, as if a thought had just been provoked within him, and he could not help but follow it. His eyes were wide, and some nerve took the pink of his lips and left them parted. 

"Sometimes," he replied, carefully, "A couple will fall out of love, and move on to someone new. Sometimes that will happen, and that is okay."

"But that's out of your power," Liam pressed, "Who they fall in love with after you've done your part. Or whether they'll be happy."

"I cannot control that, no," Harry looked away, expression lined with taut regret, "I can only follow what my heart tells me. Aside from that, humans are free to choose who they love as they please."

"So your involvement in human's lives is somewhat...Limited. You can't make every single couple fall in love, can you?"

"No," Harry said, "But I feel it when they do."

Liam laughed, soullessly. "What."

"I feel it," Harry spoke, glancing at Louis. He put his hand over his heart, and nodded, "Here. With every beat, someone finds someone new."

"That's...Amazing," Louis said, breathlessly, "So you can feel it, worldwide?"  
  
"Yes," Harry closed his eyes, and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down, "And it has never stopped."  
  
They sat there, for a moment, Liam quickly scribbling, and Louis watching the morning pass by through the window. It was a grey day, and London's clouds were punctuated by the skyscrapers, here, there, everywhere! It was rather strange to see: Louis had never really thought about it before. When he glanced back to Harry, he had his eyes closed, still, and his eyelashes were fluttering to a tune of a noiseless symphony.

"So when do you intervene?" Liam asked, "When do you decide to _make_ people fall in love? Isn't there, like, a fate thing where they'll fall in love sometime anyway?"  
  
"Sometimes," Harry spoke, softly, "My heart misses a beat. And that's when I know."

Liam looked at Louis, as if to say, _what the fuck._ Louis sighed, quietly, and picked up the pace.

"Know what?"  
  
Harry opened his eyes.

"Sometimes, people miss each other. People who were destined, people who are meant to be. Sometimes, fate skips them. That is why it is my duty to rectify these skips."

"And that's what you felt with Sheila," Louis said, hands on his knees, "A skip."

Harry nodded. "Yes. It is a pull like no other."

Liam huffed, and scribbled another note in his sketchbook. "Right."

"When I feel the pull, I must rectify the skip in fate," Harry said, peaceful, "And Sheila and Tim-- skipped one another. We do not know why it happens. Sometimes, we think it is the work of Eris."

"The goddess of hate, right?" Louis grinned, and paused when Liam gave him a _look_ , "What? It was on one of the research pages."

Liam shook his head, but Harry just smiled, rubbing his chest.

"It is skipping now," He said, a distant look in his eyes, "Two lovers are skipping one another."

"It's probably best if you don't listen," Liam said, suddenly.

Harry's face twisted with scorn, "What?"  
  
"Don't listen," Liam spoke, helplessly, "To whatever's telling you to go. I know it's your instinct, or whatever. But we need you to stay put while this case develops."

"Don't listen to my heart?" Harry stood, anger in his face, "You are asking me to give up my duties as a god."

"I'm asking you," Liam stood too, "To be reasonable. This is a sensitive situation we've got going here, okay? And it's going to be hard enough to tell the Supreme Court that a fucking god's involved. Let alone-- all this."

 _"All this?"_ Harry clenched his fists, "You speak of a sacred duty. It is not one that can be pushed aside."

"Guys--" Louis stood too, helpless, "Guys. Let's just-- Calm down, okay? Let's just sit down."

Liam huffed with frustration. Harry, however, took a step away, and had a jaw filled with resentment.

"I cannot give up on my duty," he stated, voice heated, "I cannot."

And so he left. Louis and Liam stood there, for a moment, swimming in the aura left behind, Liam's cup half empty. Louis drew in a sharp breath, hands on his hips; one foot in front of the other.

"I'll go talk to him," he said, and began to walk, "Stay here."

-

Harry was filled with an anger he could not explain, a frustration he could not reach. Instead, it burned deeply within him, scratching at the surface, ebbing through his defence in the form of golden-glinted tears and clenched, tight fists. It was not the embodiment of what he should have been, or what he should be, but he could not help himself: could not stop the overwhelming urge to return home from consuming him. And so it did, whole.

He forced himself to focus, and stared out of the window, lifelessly. He only realised Louis was beside him when he saw his reflection in it, and that just made him want to cry even more. Would Harry never cease letting people down? 

Louis stood beside him, pondering, and resorted to letting out a loud sigh.

"I know your duty is very important to you," he began, but Harry cut him off.

"It is everything," he stated, voice cold and dark, "It is everything. And if I do not complete my duties-- I will never go home."

"I get that," Louis said, "I really, really do."

He stood there, in strange human clothes, with gently sloped shoulders and a petite figure. There were no battle scars or centuries of code or impossibly large sense of duty within his features: instead, he just looked bold, small, and desperate to help. He may have been a hero of men, but Harry was sure at that point that Louis had not known the helplessly heavy burden of the celestials, and was just saying it to be nice. At that very moment, _nice_ was not what Harry needed. 

"No," He replied, voice short, "You do not. And you never will."

Louis put his forehead up against the window, and sighed.

"When I was little, I used to do this," he explained, a small smile on his face, "It used to remind me how small I was in this big big world."

Harry looked at him, curiously so, even if his voice was still heavy with tension. "What does this have to do with the conversation?"

"Do it," Louis gestured, beckoning him closer, "Come on. Do it with me."

A pause sounded, and Harry watched Louis stand there, appearing strange, with his messy hair further scruffled by the window pane. If Louis was willing to make himself appear the fool, Harry did not see any reason why he should not join him. Drawing in shaky breath, he leaned forwards, and slowly placed his head against the window.

"Okay," Louis breathed, shoulders bobbing, "Now look down."

Harry did.

What met him was a plethora of sights, from the sloping, grey buildings, stretching around them from either side, and the long, dark streets, which cut through the scene like a hot knife. On top of that there were people; condense and tiny, passing through and by, ordinary people living ordinary lives. Harry could not help be endlessly envious of them as he watched, eyes slow, and continued to rest atop the window pane.

"It is...Mesmerising," he conceded.

Louis laughed. "See?"

"I still do not...See," Harry spoke, slowly.

"It helps you remember how small you are," Louis said, "It makes things tiny, in perspective."

"Things such as my duty," Harry turned, catching on.  
  
"The way I see it," Louis began, "There's eight billion or so people on Earth, right?"

"Seven point five."

"Yeah," Louis gestured, "So. You only have to deal with any of those people who, like, miss out on their true loves, right? So that's like..."

Harry paused, for a moment. "Five billion."  
  
"Five billion," Louis nodded, "Right. And when you feel these urges to go to 'em, you can remember who they are and where they are, right?"

"I never forget," Harry announced, proudly, "I could never forget. It is a part of me, like any other."

"So you could," Louis put his tiny fingers in the air, " _Theoretically_ come back to it."

"Come back to it," Harry repeated, dumbly, "Come back to my godly duty, you mean?"

"Yesss," Louis grimaced, "I mean, only until the case is over."

"And when will that be?"  
  
"I...Do not know," Louis shrugged, "But, at the end of the day, if we confiscate your bow and arrow and you decide to take it back, well...There's not much we can do. So, theoretically, you could give it up for a while and then steal it back when you get bored."

Harry blinked, and burst out in a laugh. Humans truly were strange things.

"You just advocated robbery," he said, gleeful.

"Maybe I did," Louis brushed his fringe out of his eyes, "Fuck. I did, didn't I?"

Harry just laughed further. "Robbery is illegal."

"I know," Louis spurted in laughter, unable to help himself, "But that's not the point. The point is, you'd make Liam happy for a while. Isn't that your whole thing?"

"Making people _happy_ is not my concern. I deal with those in love."

"How would you feel if I told you Liam broke up with his girlfriend years ago?"

"What girlfriend?"

"She was called Sophia. They dated for a while, at law school, and they were really into each other, you know?" Louis sighed, helplessly, "But things went wrong a few days before our final. She left, and he was never really the same after."

"I did not know," Harry mused, quietly, but of course he had known: if he concentrated hard enough on anyone, he could see where their love lay. For Liam, it rested miles away.

For Louis, it was a spider's web. It clung to Liam, and Niall, and family far far away. It clung loosely to the people he passed on the street, and the neighbours next door, and everyone he'd ever helped in the past.  His love was a spider's web, with him in the centre, ever growing, ever spreading. Did he want it to spread as much as it did? From his experience with humans, Harry could safely say that the answer was no. But, at the same time, he did not seem to mind.

"Hey, it's okay," Louis shrugged, "He wears it well. But you've got to realise why this whole love-god thing is a little strange for him. Liam thinks a lot more analytically than most people, and he associates love with loss most of the time. He just needs to step back and take it slow, and if you'd-- you know-- do that too, it would really help."

Harry debated it for a while, mind turning.

"For now," he said, cautiously, and reached for his bow and arrow. 

"Thank you," Louis breathed, relieved.

His eyes flooded with easement, and for the first time he seemed as if he wasn't about to leap out of the window. That was another thing Harry had noticed about Louis that he had not with other humans: the shiftiness. Unlike the norm, Louis' shiftiness did not indicate disloyalty. Instead, it was as if there was too much energy in his body, and not enough things to consume it with. When they had sat down earlier, he had played with his hands, tapped his foot, bobbed his knee, itched at his hair, and played with his teacup. When they had first met, he had bit his lip, tapped on his duvet, wriggled his toes, played with his fringe. He never seemed to be doing, singularly, one thing at once. And not once had Harry seen him do something solely for his benefit.

Still, this was an item of the gods. And Harry had to be sure.

"Protect it with your life," Harry spoke, "Promise me."

"I promise," Louis said, and linked their fingers together.

Harry looked at the place where they met. "What is this?"

"Oh," Louis laughed, sheepish, "It's a pinky promise. Means you have to keep things."

"Only your finger is pink," Harry remarked, and Louis rolled his eyes. 

"It's an Earth thing," he explained, and then took the bow and arrow, "I'll look after it, I swear."

"Very well," Harry conceded.

Louis began walking on down the corridor, and Harry noted, with a small glance, that his toes were wriggling.

-

Liam was stood at the door when Louis got back. He had this strange, stern expression on his face, as if his opinion was already immovable, even if he had not foreseen the conversation ahead.

"Hey," Louis breathed, jogging to meet him, "Are you off?"

"I'm going back to the office," Liam explained, "Apparently, I need to brush up on my mythology."  
  
It took Louis a moment to realise he wasn't joking. He sighed, distressed at Liam's tone, and ran his fingers through his jagged hair.

"Li," he said, quiet, "I'm so sorry--"

"It's fine," Liam held his hands up, "Greek legend. Touchy feelings. I get it. I'll leave you to do the talking next time."

"It's just that--" Louis puffed his cheeks, "The same things that are important to us aren't important to him. And I know that that's hard to grasp."

"You don't seem to have any trouble with it." 

"I--" Louis looked away, struggling with the words, "It's just not that hard for me."

"Yeah," Liam crossed his arms, "You've always had the imagination. And that's fine. You know. It's fine. I just-- I'll help you the best I can. I said I was going to try and I am. Just...Maybe not as close."

"Okay," Louis said, and balled his fists, "You don't have to. I know you don't. I just...I'm glad you're here."

Liam smiled, minutely, and patted Louis on the shoulder. For Liam, the touch moved a mountain, as he was neither touchy nor feely. Liam preferred his contact minimal, and his conversations slick. As Louis offered neither most of the time, he often wondered why they were still friends.

"There...There has to be conditions if we do this, Louis. I can sort the paperwork, but-- he has to stay under control. We don't know what he's capable of, and we need to keep him in one place while this is going on."

"One place being..." Louis looked around, "My place."

"Wherever," Liam batted a hand, "Hire him a hotel room. Buy him a house. Whatever. But he has to stay put, and there has to be someone with him."

"When? Like, before or after work? Because I work weekends, and I'm not sure if..."

Liam sent him a  _look_.

"Wait... All the time? Someone with him, _all the time?"_

Louis felt a peak of frustration flare in his stomach; minute and painful in Liam's silence.

"Liam..." He said, helplessly, "He's not a toddler."

"He doesn't know how this world works, Lou," Liam shrugged, "We have to be careful. Can you imagine what would happen if someone found out who he was? If someone rammed a microphone in his face? This trial is gaining speed by the minute. Everyone is hearing Sheila's story, and soon enough, they'll want to know his. And he says one thing wrong and...BOOM! Out of context, and we'll never hear a moment's peace again."

Louis knew he was right, but hated that he was. Something painful tugged at his gut.

"I know," he concluded, heavily, "Li, we don't have to do this."

"We don't," Liam said, in response, "But who else will?"

-

The press got wind of things at some point in the next two days, but they always would, and as expected, the backlash was immense.

**TOMMO & PAYNE'S RETURN? BRITS TAKE ON THE CASE**

**LYVONINSKY V T &P LTD: THE FULL STORY SO FAR**

**WHO ARE THE LAWYERS TAKING ON THE GODDESS OF BUSINESS? THE SCOOP AS WE KNOW IT**

**FROM COWELL & CO TO LYVONINSKY & LYVONINSKY: THE TWO SOLICITORS WHO ARE THE ONES TO WATCH**

The headlines were deafening. There were crowds of people outside their firm for days, and both Liam and Louis had to work from home. They were on every law oriented publication in the country; every back page of gossip magazines, and one night, they even made headline news.

"You are on the plaque," Harry informed him.

Louis looked up from the sofa and groaned: his first response was to change the channel, and the second was to emit a loud groan.

"Why did you do that?" Harry stared at him, quizzically, "I thought it was of merit to be featured there."

"Not to me," Louis wriggled, and continued staring at the sheet of paperwork in front of him.

Harry watched the tapping of his feet for a moment, which made Louis realise he was tapping it, and abruptly stopped. For a moment, the air filled with a strange sort of tension.

"You do not like seeing yourself on such things," Harry commented, softly.

Louis itched at his neck, uncomfortable. "Nope."

"Why is that?" Harry pressed, "Do you not find yourself worthy of it?"

"Something like that," Louis grumbled. The questioning a little too raw for him, he stood to get a drink, and wondered when the press obsession was going to end. Sometime soon, he hoped.

"Your plaque does not find you unworthy," Harry called, "It wants to know when you'll meet again."

Louis jolted, walking back in. "What?"

Harry pointed to Louis' phone, eyes wide, and Louis jogged on over there. Sure enough, there was a message from his last one night stand:

_hey, stranger. U wanna continue what we had somewhere else? I rlly wanna see u again. Maybe this time we'll exchange names._

Louis blushed red and quickly removed his phone from Harry's sight. Of course, in his blistering moment of embarrassment, the first thing he could say was:

"You can read?"

Harry blinked, as if Louis was completely stupid.

" _Yes_ , I can read," he said, stroppily, and crossed his arms, "I read the newspaper article that lead me to you, if you recall."

"I--" Louis stuttered, "My mind doesn't go back that far."

"Gods have been around for millennia," Harry explained, face plain, "It would be stupid for us not to evolve in such ways."

"God. I know. I'm so sorry. I just--" Louis pinched the bridge of his nose, "It never occurred to me."

_Idiot._

Harry laughed, a rich noise. 

"So, will you meet them again?"

"Huh?" Louis stood by the window, fingers fumbling, "Who?"

"The person who would like to meet you," Harry asked, "Will you continue?"

"Ah," Louis itched at his head, "I don't know."

"I had many friends on Olympia," Harry commented, and there was a far-off look in his eyes: borderline dreamy, "We would meet often."

"Er, I, I doubt it's the same," Louis rubbed his face, and turned the phone over. He was quickly reddening, and in the meanwhile, Harry remained completely oblivious. Did they even have  _one night stands_ in their world?

"How?" Harry tilted his head. He was sat down, cross-legged, on the carpet, a massive jumper on and a Rubik's cube in his hands. He had been delighted the first time he saw it, and had pretty much figured it out within the first ten seconds, but insisted upon playing with it nonetheless.

"Uh," Louis began, "Well, the person I met with...The thing we did...It doesn't really happen more than once. It's not really meant to."

Harry blinked, slowly, "So you are not friends."

"No," Louis rubbed his hands, sitting back on the sofa, "I mean, it can happen between friends, too, I guess, but it's not really-- I don't really know them."

"Then why would you meet again?" Harry blinked, "Do you like them so?"

"I liked them, I guess. I just don't-- I'm not sure if it's the best-- thing, for me, is all."

"Why?"

"I'm just not good at it," Louis looked away, "The love thing, I mean."

He realised from the second the words left his mouth that he had done the wrong thing. In attempting to divert Harry, he had helplessly lured him in: Harry's eyes widened, his mouth parted, and he shuffled, excitedly, towards Louis, as if he were infinitely more interesting now.

"YOU ARE IN LOVE?!?"

He practically screamed it. Louis, panicked, waved his hands about, and went a deeper shade of red.

"No!" He squealed, "No no no! I'm not-- We're not-- It's not that. We're not in love, at all. I don't know them. I don't know him, I mean."

Harry beamed, beyond excited, and placed his hands on Louis' knees. "Tell me of him."

"Uh," Louis looked around, "Which one?"

"Which one?" Harry frowned, "There are several?"

"No-- No-- It's not like that," Louis itched at his chin, "How can I explain this? There's been...A few. Over a few months. That's all. I meet them, and then we, you know, and then it's over."

"You know," Harry repeated, face going blank, "What is you know?"

"Sex," Louis blurted.

Harry's eyes went wide. "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"Harry!" Louis waved his arms, "Shush!"

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHH," Harry sat back, and put his hands on his face, "Oh. Oh oh oh."

Louis regretted bringing it up. He regretted everything. He should have just said that the text was from the wrong number, and been done with it.

"It's not a regular thing!" He promised, calming him down, "It's just a fun thing I do sometimes. With someone. Because we do. It doesn't mean anything. It's never meant anything."

"They would like to meet again," Harry stated, a smile on his face, "This means that they liked you."

"Or it means I have a good ass," Louis said, and put his head in his hands, "God. I am so sorry. That was inappropriate."

What was he thinking? The whole conversation was inappropriate, but Harry had been set on a course now, and there was, apparently, no stopping him.

"So you have sex?" Harry tilted his head.

"Yes. That's all. It's a-- it's a one night stand. It means it's one night, and one night only, and then you go your separate ways."

Harry nodded, deep in thought. 

"Tell me of him," he urged, eyes filled with excitement, "The one who wants to meet again."

"Uh," Louis closed his eyes, "Dark eyes. A lip piercing. I think he had-- I think he had a tattoo? Somewhere?"

"A tattoo," Harry repeated, studious. He reached out, and touched Louis' wrist, and arm, "Like this."

"Kind of like these, yeah," Louis nodded, "I mean, everyone gets different ones, so they're not exactly the same."

"I understand," Harry nodded, "Continue."

"Uhh," Louis itched at his hair, "He was good. _Really_ good. And I was with him when the news first aired about the case."

"What did he say? Does he study the gods?"

"Uh...I don't think so," Louis laughed. 

"That is unfortunate," Harry sighed, "Meet him anyway."

"Harry..." Louis blushed, "I've got to work on the case."

"After, then," Harry pointed at the phone, "You have taken away my bow and arrow, so I must do this manually."

"What manually?" Louis laughed, manically so, "Set me up with some guy I fucked?"

"No," Harry grinned, wisely, "Spread love."

-

Harry would not stop asking about Louis' one night stands for the next two days, so when Liam deemed it safe enough to back to work, it came as rather a blessing. A positive consequence of this was that he would escape not only Harry's constant needling, but his apartment as well. A negative consequence of this was that as, he had to be accompanied at all times, Louis had no choice but to leave Niall babysitting.

"Of course it's fine!" Niall had said, aggressively happy, eyes crinkled with amusement, "Dude! It's fine. It's completely fine. Your place is a fuckin' tip, but I'll just have to deal with that."

"Well," Louis shuffled, kicking a shoe beneath the sofa, "Feel free to clean up. Or _try_."

"Ha ha," Niall raised an eyebrow, and Louis snorted.

"I'm serious," he argued, "There's like, a solid two years of dust and neglect in the air."

Niall grinned. "I'll try not to trip on it."

Louis shoved him. Somehow, Niall's presence was comforting in a way that he could not describe.

"Okay," he said, sobering, and handing him the door keys, "If he starts looking for the bow and arrow, tell him it's in the fridge, and run."

"The fridge?" Niall scowled, highly disturbed, "Why the fuckin' fridge?"  
  
"He's captivated by it," Louis explained, "He loves it. But just don't-- Don't do anything stupid. Please."  
  
"You mean," Niall winked, "Don't let _him_ do anything stupid. Right?"

"Just call me if anything happens," Louis said, clasping him in a hug.

Behind them, Harry stood, his bra on his head, and his curls all long and loose. He smiled, sunnily, and took a bite out of a bagel.

"Have you met with your friend yet?" He asked.

"No--" Louis reddened, and clenched his bag, "No. I mean-- it's a work in progress. You're going to be okay with Niall, right?"

"All is well," Harry blinked, softly so, "Despite the loss of my sacred artefacts, this box has space for many things."

"I think he's complimentin' your flat," Niall commented, deadpan.

"Oh," Louis laughed, despite himself, and concluded that it was the worst idea ever, leaving the two of them there, "Cheers."

"I do not know what is cheers," Harry commented, "But I will question my new friend on it later."

Niall sent him a goofy thumbs up, clearly loving it. Louis was both uneased and comforted by the image.

"Just stay safe," he said, "I'll be back soon."

In his head was a mantra of  _what could possibly go wrong?_ But on the other hand, there was also the memory of Niall spilling bleach on the sofa in their second year of university, and suddenly things didn't look so good.

-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love niall so much bye  
> [if you want to know more about the fic, or reblog any of the masterposts, it's all at https://rhuubarb.tumblr.com/tagged/cupid%27s-defence !!!]


	4. Chapter 4

iv.

  
When Louis got to the firm, it was packed outside, and he didn't really stop to think why aside from the fact that he was literally taking the biggest business couple in the country to court (but, in his defence, that idea had not yet sunk in). He literally had to push through the doors, which was not only difficult, as there were tens upon tens of reporters outside, but quite annoying, and he entered the building feeling quite pissed off.

They continued to holler loud questions at him through the glass, and he stopped only to ruffle his hair before continuing on.

He was met with a thick set of muscles.

"Oof," he collided, and took a step back, "Sorry."

Louis clenched his nose and then frowned, realising that there should not have been muscles in his way. He looked up, and there was a man stood there, in the fucking lobby of the building.

"Wait. Who are you?" He asked, bewildered.

If this was a client, he sure didn't look like it: heavily muscular and dressed in black from shoulder to shoulder, about fifty fucking feet tall, with a bald head and a earpiece twirled around his ear. Louis looked to the left, and there was another one, completely the same, but with a long, shaggy beard and an eyebrow piercing to boot.

"Are you _security_?" He took a step back, eyes wide.

They didn't answer, and Louis became thoroughly, completely, confused. Reverting to his age-old method of asking Liam, he quickly walked past them, and clambered up the stairs.

Liam's office door was open when he got there, and it looked like he had clients. He noted, unsettled, that Liam's fairy lights seemed to be turned off, which gave it a rather cold ambience. Nonetheless, he knocked, and then, he entered.

The first thing he noticed was Liam's posture. He was sat at his desk, facing his clients, posture restricted and his face quite pale. The second thing he noticed was the thick stack of money on the desk.

Then, he noticed Sheila Lyvoninsky.

She was sat squat in her chair, a deep burgundy suit on, and her braids were clipped short on either side of her ears. Beside her, sat Tim, a chubby and frail looking man, with a big nose and lightly bleached hair.

"What." Louis said, looking from her to Liam, "The fuck. Is going. On."

Liam's eyes widened, and Louis realised that he should have curbed his language all too late. Sheila turned around, thin eyebrows raised in question, and her lips, also painted purple, slightly pursed. Tim wiped his sweaty brow, and stared vigilantly at the stack of money on the table.

"I don't believe we've met," Sheila said, and she stuck out a hand, "I'm Mrs Lyvoninsky, soon to be Harbell. This is Mr Lyvoninsky."

"Hi," Louis replied, weakly taking the hand. She had a firm, leathery grip, one that left an imprint on your hand.

"We were just...talking," Liam offered, softly, and the poor sod looked scared for his life.

"Yes." Sheila let go of the handshake, briskly so, "We were just looking to save you a whole lot of time."

"By...Giving us money?" Louis frowned, "No offence, Mrs Lyvoninsky, but I don't see how that would help."  
  
"Let me lay it on the line, then," Sheila blinked, "I want this to be easy. Let me make this easy. This money is so you'll leave the case well alone."

A moment of silence rang in the air, in which Louis stared, blankly, and Liam looked as though he was about to cry.

"A bribe," Louis commented, bland.

"Call it a _beneficial transaction_ ," Sheila's lips tightened.

"Just to help things along," Tim offered, hands in his lap.

"I-- Wha," Louis blinked, "I don't understand."

"They want to pay us money so we'll give Harry up," Liam explained, pained, "So they'll find him another defence."

"A defence more in their favour, you mean?" Louis clenched a hand.

"What we do with the client is of our choosing," Sheila blinked, "As far as we're concerned, you're just the unnecessary middle man."

Unnecessary.

Middle.

Man.

The words rested cold in Louis' ears, and his jaw visibly tightened. In front of him the couple were unwavering, but Liam was undoubtedly petrified.

"So, what," Louis crossed his arms, "You buy us over, then what? Does he then lose the right to a fair trial just because you're rich as fuck?"

Liam winced. "Louis..."

"Does he not get the chance to choose who he wants to represent him anymore? Because as far as I'm concerned, those people were us, and not you," Louis pointed a finger, "You don't get to make the call here."

"And why not?" Sheila snapped, "Because you have a crush?"

"If you honestly think that Harry woul--"

"Look at you! You've practically named him!" Sheila threw her arms in the air, "Humanising him helps nothing, solves nothing. He is at best a boy, and a boy who must be held accountable for his actions."

"That _boy_ ," Louis seethed, "As far as I'm aware, can make his own decisions."

"No. That boy," Sheila retorted, cold, "Is the reason that Tim and I have lost out on crucial investors. Crucial exchanges. Crucial loans and repayments. This is the real world we're living in, Mr Tomlinson, and as far as I'm aware, it runs on money, not freedom."

"Oh, so you lost some money? Cry me a river. You made that call," Louis stepped forward, "Not him."

"Do not speak of which you don't know," Sheila spoke, dangerously.

"You've got to be kidding me," Louis wiped his brow, "Liam, tell them! He's a client! He has the right to a free trial!"

"He, by definition, is not human," Sheila cut in, before Liam could interrupt: "Therefore, he does not have to abide to the human law. Therefore, his rights to a fair trial are, at best, disputable."

"Are you--" Louis laughed, manically, "Are you fucking serious right now?"

 _"Louis..."_ Liam warned. But Louis was past irritated. He'd gone straight, full blast, to angry.

"Now you listen up here," he pointed a finger, "You may be Mr and Mrs big balls, with your big shiny towers, and your pointy ass high heels and stacks of money, but that does not give you the fucking right to undermine someone's human rights. Who the fuck do you think you are? Coming in here, and saying that shit? He has the right to anything just as much as you do. And I don't know what the fuck made you come to that conclusion, or whatever the hell he did to you. But from where we see it, you're the ones who have got it the wrong fucking way around. I barely know the fella, and I barely know you, but I know better than anything else that everyone has a right to be free. And you can give us as much fucking money as you want. We don't want it. We don't accept it. So you can fuck off out of here, with your pointy ass high heels and stack of money, and rest assured that we are about to _legally_ kick your ass."

There was a moment of silence, in which Sheila's mouth twitched, and Tim's mouth gaped open.

"Is that your final answer?" She asked, voice tight.

"Yes. Fuck yes," Louis crossed his arms, before opening the door, "Now. The exit's this way."  
  
Sheila furiously stood, Tim by her side, and she ripped her coat from the chair on which she had sat. "You're making a horrid mistake."

Liam looked as if he were about to faint.

"Maybe," Louis shrugged, not standing down from the eye contact, "But at least I've got a conscience."

They left in a whirl of fury, Tim holding the money, and Sheila holding her coat. 

"See you in court!" Louis added, happily, watching them descend the stairs.

Once they left, their security in tow, Louis turned to Liam to assess the damage. Liam appeared mostly in shock, but partly in relief, and the first thing he did was wipe his forehead with both.

Silence rang. And then--

"Shit," Liam said, and deeply exhaled, "Shit, Lou."

Louis stared at the desk. "Were you gunna take the money?"

"No!" Liam looked appalled. "No! God, no. But you--"

"What?"  
  
"You shouldn't have-- You--" Liam closed his eyes, and huffed, "I'm glad you said what you said. But it was also very stupid and very...Unprofessional. And it's tainted our relationship with her in relation to the case."

"She tried to bribe us!" Louis exclaimed, voice high, "For Harry's fucking freedom!"

"I know," Liam pinched his nose, "I know."

"I can't believe that happened," Louis ran fingers through his hair, "I- I mean, can we report that? Or get protection from her somehow?"

"As the defence, we're meant to," Liam said, face heavy, "But that woman moves mountains with her fist, Lou, I-- I don't know what good it'd do at this point."

"I'm filing a report anyway," Louis stated, determined, "Jesus."

"I know," Liam said, miserably.

They stood there for a moment, letting it sink in. The office was calm, quiet, and very much in shock of the events that had transpired.

"God! Does she hate him that much?"

"It would seem that way," Liam shook his head, "But, Louis, you can't lose your nerve like that. I know you're defensive of others, but we don't know either defence or prosecution that well. We can't assume facts. We just can't."

"What I know is that that was wrong," Louis pointed, "And I reacted in response to that. It was wrong. And I'm sorry. This was all wrong. What time did she get here?"

"Ten minutes before you did," Liam sighed, "I- I had no chance to call you, Lou-- I would have, and Niall was gone too, so I just--"

"It's okay."

"I should have stood up to her," Liam turned, exasperated, "Perhaps not as you did, but maybe more refined, more hardline--"

"Liam," Louis put his hand on Liam's shoulder, "It's okay."

Liam smiled, minutely, and patted Louis' hand. 

"I'm gunna file that report," Louis said, determined, "You take a minute, okay?"

A nod. A smile. Louis left the office and went to his, fists balled with anger, a constant question in his mind: _why the fuck were rich people like that?_

-

The sky was rich and inviting.

It reminded Harry of the skies in Olympia, somewhat: dreamy whites and pinks, diluted above the palest of blues. The daylight drifted through the clouds, peacefully so, and calmed the apartment beyond belief. He used to think that there was nothing that could not be fixed with a beautiful sky. Since coming down to the mortal world, he was no longer sure.

"Niall," He asked, sunnily, "Have you ever been in love?"

They sat on the sofa, side by side. Niall was showing him how video games worked, and Harry was rather bad at them so far, but enjoyed watching Niall play, and so he did. There were so many buttons, and pressing, and noises. Harry wasn't ever quite sure he'd understand it.

Niall had quite a peculiar face, round in nature, yet shaped rather tightly in places. It was that face that looked at Harry now, with a deep sense of wonder, eyebrows high and brash.

"Tons of times," he said, itching at his jaw, "I mean, it doesn't take much. Anytime someone smiles at me, I'm like 'oh _fuck'_ , and then for a while I love 'em to death. After a while it wears off, but that's the novelty of romance. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't."

"What happened?"

"Well," Niall shrugged, "I messed around a lot in college. Didn't really take anything seriously, and I'm a lightweight when it comes to this shit, so the first thing anyone did, I just completely became obsessed with 'em. My brain is wired like that, you know? Constant stupidity. So, anyway. I used to keep goin' and goin' and goin' and then the people wouldn't stop coming. I kept making new friends and fallin' in love with them for about three days solid. Then, I'd move on. Then, by the time college ended, I never really found anyone."

"I am sorry," Harry said, and felt sadness wash over him, "I did not know."

"Ah, it's okay," Niall snorted, "I mean, I had Louis to help me out."

"You knew him then?"  
  
"Yea, sure," Niall grinned, "It was great. I mean, we were drunk for most of it, and for the rest of the time he was either studying or in remorse land--"

He stopped, abruptly, and the silence was heavy. Harry paused, calculating, and he locked Niall in a stare.  
  
"Why was he in remorse land?" Harry frowned, "What happened?"  
  
"Uhhh," Niall looked away, "I'm not entirely sure I'm at the liberty to say."

"Is he better now?"  
  
"Ah, mostly," Niall itched his neck, "I mean, I think so. I don't know. I can't see into his brain."  
  
"I could," Harry offered, "If I tried hard enough."

"Oh, fuck no, don't do that," Niall's eyes grew wide, "He'd kill ya. But just take it from me-- it's not something he likes talking about."

Harry narrowed his eyes.

"Okay," Niall murmured, face red, "So he may or may not have had a crush on the same dude for eight years."

"Eight years?" Harry gasped, "What, why--"  
  
"Shush!" Niall nearly dropped his controller, "Shush. So it's pretty under wraps, but one night he got drunk and he kinda spilled it all and the only person he's really told is Liam, and..."

Niall closed his eyes.

"He asked them out. For Prom. It was over the entire of high school, you know? And he finally asked them out, and confessed everything. And they rejected him."  
  
Harry gasped.

"I know," Niall shrugged, "I mean, he still hasn't gotten over it. That kind of rejection, you know? Like, he had balloons ready, and everythin--"  
  
Harry rose in his seat.

"Whoa, where ya going?"  
  
"I must comfort him," Harry announced, and began to move, but Niall grabbed his sleeve.

"Ay, ay, wait," He frowned, "You're not meant to leave the apartment."  
  
"But--" Harry said, hopelessly, "I must give Louis love!"  
  
"Why?"

"He has been deprived of it! I-It's my duty-- to--"  
  
"Listen," Niall paused the game, "Dude. Louis doesn't want that shit, okay? He doesn't want love, not like that. He can't deal with it anymore. This last dude broke him."

"B-but--" Harry faltered, "His plaque said-- he's meeting--"  
  
"Just because he's fuckin' a new guy every night doesn't mean he loves them. Or wants to," Niall sighed, "Please sit down, Harry. Yer making me nervous."

Harry did, partly out of shock, and partly because his legs felt completely numb. 

"I have failed my duty to him," he whispered, mortified.

"Hey," Niall said, infected by it, "Don't talk like that. It was years ago. He's fine. It's just-- a thing, you know? Some people just aren't ready for anything new."

"But I could have-- He could've been happy."  
  
"He is happy," Niall smiled, "I mean, you're a big part of that. He loves working on a new case, and helping people. So you're making up for it even as we speak, even if you were to blame, okay?"

Harry paused, deep in thought. The grief lay on his chest, heavy, a dead-weight, swirling and swirling.

"Okay," he conceded. 

"Love's a strange thing," Niall sighed, "Sometimes, it's just random, and sometimes, it's temporary, and sometimes, it's for life."

"I did not always know that it didn't last," Harry spoke, rather deeply, "But now I do."

"Yeah, the Sheila shit," Niall restarted the game, kicking a virtual ball onto a virtual field, "How ya doin' with that, by the way?"

Harry did not expect the question: no-one had ever really questioned him on his welfare before. He paused, deep in thought, and brushed a strand of hair from his eyes.

"I am okay," he admitted, "I was-- shaken at first, and I do not know this place. But I am okay."

"Did you even know who she was when you did your lovin' thing?" 

"I--" Harry pondered the question, "No. Why would I?"

"Well," Niall shrugged, "I'm sure if you did, you would've chosen a better person to _pe-twang_ , that's for sure. I mean, she was scandalous even before ya decided to put an arrow in her butt."

"It did not go in her butt," Harry laughed, confused, "It went in her heart."

Niall snorted and continued to play.

"If I were to shoot it in her butt, I am not sure what would have happened," Harry commented, "And what is the pe-twang noise?"

"Pe-twang," Niall repeated, deadpan, "It's the noise a bow and arrow makes."

Harry giggled at that. Even for a human, Niall was rather silly.

"Li and Lou tell me shit about the case all the time, but I don't really listen," Niall confessed, "Maybe I should start, and then I could start reassuring you about some things."

"Why would you do that?"  
  
"Well," Niall shrugged, "You're getting sued by a fuckin' terrifying bunch of people. Must be scary."

"I am not afraid," Harry assured, "Not much."

"It can't be easy, though," Niall said, "I mean, Louis told me you're a fuck ton away from home. And humans aren't exactly the nicest reception."

Harry placed his hands in his lap, "Louis told you that?"  
  
"Yeh," Niall looked at him, "Listen, I know you don't know 'em, but Li and Lou are good people. They'll try their best to help. And I know this shit is so weird at the moment. But it'll be okay."

A strange peace filled the room, and Harry closed his eyes, infected by it.

"Thank you," he spoke, after a while.

"Anyway," Niall shrugged, "I like helping people. I like makin' em feel better. I don't really know shit about the law, but I know that it'll be okay in the end."

Harry sat for a moment, his head swimming with the suggestion. It did not take him long to accept it: he liked positivity far better than the alternative. On screen, Niall kicked the ball once more, and it bounced into the net. The crowd went wild.

"Why are they shouting?" Harry asked.

"Oh," Niall itched his chin, "It's 'cos I've won the match."

"Do humans always yell when they win something?"

"Well," Niall grinned, "Pretty much, yeah."

They sat there and watched the video game progress. Harry believed it was called Feef? Feefer? He could not remember.

"Hey," Niall said, suddenly, "Don't tell Louis I told you any of that stuff, will you?"  
  
Harry met his eye. "Why?"  
  
"Well, it's kind of sacred to him. And it's sacred to me, because he's sort of my employer, and I need to pay my rent this month..."

He laughed, awkwardly so, and Harry intertwined their index fingers.

"I swear that I will not tell," he promised, completely serious.

Niall snorted. "The fuck?"  
  
"What?" Harry looked at their hands, in shock, "It is a pinky of promises."

"The pinky finger's this one," Niall pointed, and it all made sense.

"Ohhhh," Harry murmured, "Okay. It is not an index of promises."

Niall dropped the controller, and laughed so hard that he nearly stopped breathing.

-

A world away, Louis sat in thought.

When he and Liam had taken on the Cowell & Co case, there had been opposition. Of course there had been. Louis remembers Cowell's defence lawyer visiting their office, first trying to intimidate them into quitting, and then being surprised at how much they fought for people they barely knew. The company had offered measly compensation for each of their employees, who had suffered years of abuse, low pay, and medical problems due to their conditions of work, and every time the company offered less, Louis and Liam had pressed for more. No, it was not easy charisma that had won the day. It had been planting their feet, in the ground, like a tree, and refusing to settle than any less than what they deserved.

This was the tactic Louis knew they had to use now. Hell, Cowell & Co were a big company, but they were a fucking _bathroom tiles_ company, and had neither the power or the press coverage that the Lyvoninskys did. They may have brought Simon Cowell to justice, but there was no indication that the same would happen this time around. There were so many independent factors. So many _'ifs'_ and _'buts'_. But at least now he knew.

He knew he had to fight this case. It was an instinct, within his bones, telling him there was _no way_ he was letting that couple end up on top.

_10/4/17 - Law Report Complaint RE @  the "Cupid" Case._

_Mr and Mrs Lyvoninsky came into our firm at about 10:30 AM, and then proceeded to offer us a bribe of fifty thousand pounds to give up the case and no longer represent our client in the case in which we had decided to take on..._

There came a knock on the door, and then from behind it, arose Liam. His hair was still bundled neatly in a quiff, and his sleeves rolled up. However, there was a look on his face of pure concern that Louis could not decipher.

"Lou," he pressed, quietly, "Have you heard from Niall?"

Louis glanced at the clock: he'd been there for four hours. "No. Why?"

"Well," Liam puffed his cheeks, "I know you've been writing the report. But I've tried to call them seven times and it's gone straight to voicemail. And now I've just received this text from Niall's phone--"

**hlp help help help help !!! i don't know what to do    !**

"Shit," Louis scrambled for his phone, and dialled the number, "Shit shit shit."

Liam watched, clearly tense.

"It goes straight to voicemail. Fuck." Louis ran his hands through his hair.

"Maybe one of us should..."

"I'm on it," Louis jolted up, sent the report, and began collecting his stuff, "For fuck's sake. I knew something would go wrong."

"I'll drive," Liam offered, and so they ran.

-

"Niall, I know you never answer your fucking phone, but please feel free to let us know if the building is still intact," Louis said, for the third voicemail.

They were sat beside each other in Liam's car, and Liam was driving unusually tensely. Buildings, buildings and buildings zoomed past, and Louis hated himself for choosing such a cramped place to live. The traffic was so thick...There was no telling what could have happened to Niall and Harry by now. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck! 

There were no spaces along the street, so Liam had to park on the next block along, and they had to jog all of the way from the car to the lift. Even then, Louis was filled with a strong sense of fear. He'd been gone for four hours, and so caught up in all that was going on that he hadn't even thought to remember he'd left a Greek God alone in an apartment with _Niall._

He barged the door open, and was very shocked to discover...

Niall, baking, Louis' favourite apron slung over his shoulders. He was humming, happily, and stopped in shock when he saw Liam and Louis.

"Jesus," he said, grinning, "What happened to you?"

"We just ran the entire corridor," Louis panted, "What happened to you?"

"I decided to make a fuckin' pie," Niall retorted, defensive, "Fuck's up with you?"

"Why did you send us that text?" Liam scowled.

A sense of dread came over Louis. "Where's Harry?"

He ran through the apartment, heart thumping in his chest. When he made it to the study, Harry was there, stood on his office chair...Bow and arrow pointed directly at Louis' laptop screen.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Louis squealed.

Harry squealed, in turn, and fell off the chair. Louis rushed to help, which was pretty difficult, as the chair had toppled sidewards, and Harry had bashed his head on the wall.

"Oh my God," Louis gushed, panic taking over him, "Oh shit. Oh shit. I'm so- I'm so sorry--"  
  
Harry scowled up at him, "I am well."  
  
"You-- you bashed your head--"

"And I can heal, Louis," Harry squinted, and then a gold light, akin to the one that enveloped Louis' hand the night they met, absorbed the back of his head. When it dimmed, he was perfect again, sat on the floor, the bow and arrow in his hands, "Why did you scream? Did you win something?"  
  
"Wha--" Louis began, and shook his head, "No! No! I thought you were-- We thought you were in trouble!"

"I am in trouble," Harry explained, sitting up, "I cannot get them to fall in love."

Louis looked at the screen, and of course, the fucking Sims was playing.

"You're kidding me," he stated, deadpan.

"No," Harry stood, and directed his view, "Look. They will not kiss."

"You-- You sent the text."

"Yes!" Harry beamed, "Did you read it?"

"Why do you think we ran here?" Louis squealed, "And how do you know how to text?!?"

"Niall showed me!" Harry said, and he sounded pretty damn pleased with himself, "I also learned how to take the selfie."

"Jesus," Louis sighed, heavily, "Jesus Jesus."

"But that is not my problem," Harry pointed, "My problem is that they will not kiss. I would like to spread love there."

"They can't kiss right away. They need to be friends first," Louis blurted, and he thought he was in shock.

"Oh!" Harry frowned, "Well, that's boring, isn't it?"

Liam came hurdling in through the doorway. "Is everyone okay? We heard a bang."

"Yeah," Louis pinched his nose, and sighed, "Harry's threatening the Sims with his bow and arrow."

"Whoa," Liam pointed, eyes wide, "Where did he get them?"

"Oh!" Harry beamed, holding them up, "I found them in Louis' underwear drawer."

"Louis!" Liam gasped, "Why was it--"  
  
"Why the fuck were you going through my underwear drawer?" Louis squealed, overlapping.

"I was searching for my hat," Harry stuck his bottom lip out, "I cannot find it, and I thought it would be in there."

"Harry, I don't have bras," Louis attempted to explain, desperately, and Liam just blinked in shock.

"You-- You wear a bra?" Liam asked, "Wait a second--"  
  
Niall popped his head in through the doorway, "Louis, where do you keep your paprika?"  
  
"Why the fuck do you need paprika?"

Niall scowled, "I'm making a fucking pie!"

Louis rolled his eyes, "Top shelf, third cupboard. Now, as for the underwear thing--"  
  
Harry crossed his arms, "I would like to find my hat."

"A-- the bra-- You-- you wear it on your head?" Liam stuttered.

"Li, can you just--" Louis put his hands on his face, "Go help Niall with the pie or something."

"Hey. He is armed and dangerous," Liam pointed, eyebrows high.

"I will not use it," Harry affronted, eyes dark.

"How do I know that?" Liam put his hands on his hips, "You were about to put it through a fucking laptop screen--"  
  
Harry stomped his foot. "I will make you fall _in love_ with the laptop screen!" 

"Guys!" Louis squealed, "For fuck's sake!"

Silence. Niall quietly tiptoed from the room, and Harry huffed, as if the world was just unfair.

"Harry," Louis said, "Give me the bow and arrow."

Harry gaped.

"Harry," Louis murmured, warningly, "Come on. We made a pinky promise."

He was grumpily handed the items. "Do not put them in your pants."

"I won't," Louis said, and handed the bow and arrow to Liam, "Li, go hide these somewhere that isn't shit."

Harry gasped even further. "You-- he--"  
  
"Shush," Louis sighed, and closed his eyes.

"Don't blame me if I forget where I hid them," Liam said, bitterly, and then left the room.

"Louis," Harry whispered, greatly scandalised, "You gave my sacred items to Liam."

"Yes, I did," Louis huffed, "Sue me."

He left the room, and slammed the door. Somehow, he was just done with everything.

-

The complexity of the human brain was something that never failed to surprise Harry. Simultaneously, it never failed to confuse him.

He found Louis on the balcony, a tiny ledge with a high railing, and small collections of flowers spread throughout. He was leaning against the railing, and staring out into the cloudy mid-afternoon: his hair tousling in the wind. He had very tously hair, Harry decided, and wondered what it felt like. Did tously hair feel...Tousled?

"Can you fly?" Was the first thing Louis said.

Harry smiled at that, pleased that Louis was not mad at him. Or was he? He stepped beside Louis on the balcony, and joined him in looking at the great beyond.

"That is how I came here the first time," Harry nodded, "Flying. It was a clear night."

Louis looked at him, a sly expression his features, "So you really did fly in through the window?"

Harry nodded, and pointed behind him, "That one, there."

"I really need to lock that," Louis said, pained. Then, he looked back out over the balcony, expression lost once more, "I'm sorry if I snapped at you. I'm just-- tired."

Harry looked at him kindly, "You should sleep."

"Can't sleep," Louis laughed, a little, "Not tired enough, unless you have a sleep arrow handy on that thing."

"I do not," Harry murmured, "I only have the two, I'm afraid."

Louis nodded, tightly, and stared at the buildings ahead of them. Harry realised that, as per human custom, that an apology was probably due on his part, too.

"Louis," he said, "I am sorry that I found my bow and arrow."

Louis laughed, gently so, "Harry, that wasn't your fault."

"No?"

"I should've put it somewhere better," Louis itched at his face, "That was on me. I was dumb."

"You are not," Harry spoke, offended, "You are a hero of men."

"Pfft," Louis hid his face in his hands.

Harry shook his head, highly disapproving. "Everyone is dumb sometimes, I think."

"Huh," Louis glanced at him: green meeting the blue, "Even gods?"

"Yes," Harry nodded, "Even gods. May I tell you a story?"

"Sure," Louis cocked his head. It was a good look on him, as his jaw went sharp in a way that Harry could not explain.

"Even gods are fools sometimes," Harry began, "Have you read the myth of Io?"  
  
"No," Louis rested his face on his hands, "It's something to do with Zeus, though, right?"

"That is correct," Harry began, "So, there was Zeus. And so, there was Io. She was a river nymph with whom he fell in love, but he did not wish for Hera to see."

"Hera's his wife, right?"

"The goddess of women and marriage," Harry beamed, "She is lovely as long as you do not cross her."

"I've heard," Louis nodded, and closed his eyes, "So. Carry on."

"You do not wish to see?"

"Nah, I just listen better with me eyes shut," Louis smiled, "Reminds me of when I was little."

"And when your mother used to read you stories," Harry finished, as their arms brushed.

Louis opened one eye, only slightly confused, "How did you do that?"

"Huh?"  
  
"You knew what my mother did," Louis squinted, but he looked more fond than anything else.

"Is it not common for mothers to read to their children?" Harry asked, in turn.

Louis' nose scrumpled, and he closed his eye once more. "No. I suppose it's not."

"So," Harry smiled, satisfied, "To protect Io from Hera, Zeus covered the world with clouds, to hide them both, and flew down to see Io."

Louis' smile intensified, and a slight dimple carved into the stubble held there, "I'm sensing a but."

 _"But,_ " Harry emphasised, voice deepening (to which Louis snorted) "Hera was not to be fooled. The thick coat of clouds made her suspicious immediately, and she began to fly down to investigate."

"Ohhh shit," Louis whispered, and Harry laughed.

"Zeus turned Io into a cow at the last second, and when Hera landed, all she found was Zeus standing next to the cow," Harry watched Louis' expression deepen, "But this, too, was a mistake, as Hera took the cow for herself as a present, and Zeus and Io never crossed paths again."  
  
Louis raised his eyebrows, and once more opened his eyes, "So what you're saying is that gods are dumb as shit too sometimes."

"Hey," Harry crossed his arms.

"I said sometimes," Louis laughed, and Harry calmed, "Tell me another story."

"Another?"

"Yeahhh," Louis nodded, "But about you. Tell me one of yours. Did your mum ever read you stories as a child?"

"Yes," Harry spoke, his eyes glassy with the memory, "She told me all that I am. She told me why I came to be."

He felt his wings begin to unfold, and Louis moved back a little, to accommodate them on the balcony.

"I am winged as lovers are flighty, and likely to change their minds," he explained, "And I am childish, as love is irrational."

Louis watched his wings with a quiet sense of wonder.

"I have an arrow because love wounds," Harry continued to explain, "And for my first years of life, I was blindfolded."

"Because love is blind," Louis finished, a neat smile on his face, "It all makes sense."

"It may have made sense, but it was awfully dark," Harry commented, "I did not know my mother's face until I was two hundred years old."  
  
"Two hundred, huh," Louis raised an eyebrow, "Tell me about her."

"My mother?" Harry frowned, "She...is...Beautiful. The most beautiful woman in all of creation. But she is...vain. And easily offended. She only allows herself and I to be worshipped for beauty, fertility, and sexuality, and on everyone else she grants the mosh harsh of punishments. She has a great deal of lovers, including my father, who is the god of war."

"Ares, right? That must've been a fucking weird childhood."

"It was safe to say that he was not around much."

Louis blinked, softly so. "Why?"

"Well," Harry concluded, awkwardly, "He was off fighting wars."

He remembered glimpses of him, though. Through the red clouds, where Harry and his mother resided, he would visit, his sword glinting and golden, his posture straight and muscular. He would speak words that Harry would never be allowed to hear, and then, he would be gone, a golden glint on the horizon, more of a myth to Harry than he was to the mortals below.

"I'm sorry," Louis said, after a while. He placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, "If it's any consolation, I never knew my dad."

"It is unfortunate," Harry blinked, and his wings began to curl, "So much love, lost."

"It is what it is. I mean, it's only their loss, right? We're probably better off without 'em."

Harry nodded. 

"Tell me a myth about you," Louis said, decidedly, and the wind tousled his hair, so how could Harry say no?

"There is one from my youth," Harry mused, "I was a child, and I was stung by bees in Olympia, whilst stealing honey from their hive. I cried, and ran to my mother, as a creature so small should not have caused such painful wounds. But my mother laughed, and pointed out the poetic justice, that I too, was small, and yet delivered the sting of love freely."

"Ouch," Louis gaped, "That's deep for kid talk. I just got told the story of Humpty Fucking Dumpty."  
  
Harry's face cracked in a smile, despite himself, "Our cultures are very different. But since we are sharing myths, share yours."

Louis laughed, "Okay, so, there's a fucking egg, right? And he's sat on a wall. And the whole story is about him falling over, and smashing to pieces, and the King's horses and men not being able to reassemble him."

"What?" Harry gasped, and his wings curled, "What-- Is that all?"  
  
"Pretty much," a dimpled smile spluttered into endless laughter, "I mean, I was terrified of walls for the first ten years of my life. Maybe that was the moral?"

"Why do the King's horses and men care about the egg? Was he their egg?"  
  
"We'll never know," Louis giggled, and his eyes scrumpled in the act, which did something very strange to Harry's stomach, "But my mum loved it, for whatever reason. Which meant I loved it too."

"Perhaps it tells the story of being careful of what you wish for," Harry mused, "He obviously wished to tempt fate by sitting on the wall."

"Damn," Louis swung his hand, "Remind me never to wish for a Greek God ever again."

Harry shook his head, but laughed anyway. Louis watched him for a beat, seemingly lost in it, and mindlessly reached out to touch Harry's wing.

A gasp. A yelp. And Louis was clutching his hand once more, confusion shrouding his features.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry," Harry mumbled, grasping it in his, "I will heal you. I apologise."

"Let's go inside first," Louis said, and so they did. "Jesus, why does that even happen?"  
  
"I did not know that would happen," Harry cradled Louis' hand, and it began to glow, just as before, "It is a self defence mechanism. When I am unaware I am to be touched, an electric shock arises."

"Well, it works," Louis whispered, grimacing, and when his hand was fixed, he held it away, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have touched you."  
  
"It is alright."

"No, I'm serious, I'm dumb, I--" Louis bit his lip and looked away, "I just forget you're, you know, a god. And that sounds really stupid because there are wings coming out of your back, and they just looked really soft, and--"

Harry huffed and sat on the bed, a few metres away from the balcony opening. Louis sighed and sat beside him.

"You can touch them," Harry murmured, softly, "If you wish."

Louis appeared startled, "I can?"

"Yes," Harry stretched them out, "Go ahead."  
  
"Y-you sure?" Louis slowly reached out, "I mean, it's not a social taboo, or anything?"  
  
"Louis," Harry blinked,  "If you wish to, just touch them."

Louis did.

-

What did Cupid's wings feel like?

Marshmallows. Marshmallows mixed with the softest, softest silk. Add an expensive pillow. Add feathers. Add the strangest, most compelling scent of flowers. And then you were about there. Louis' fingers skirted over and between the feathers, wondering, and watching as beneath the daylight, the colours shifted from pink, to gold, to pink, to gold. A sudden urge left him imagining them in action, actually flying, beneath the sun and the moon and the stars.

"They're--" he began, but was left speechless.

Harry chuckled, a peaceful noise. He was wearing a ruffled shirt that made his skin look nice. And his hair was endlessly curly, swept into a dramatic wave by the wind. All in all, it was stupidly obvious that he was a god. 

"-- So soft," he finished.

Harry smiled, the sort of smile that ended wars and made the Earth spin. "I am glad you think so."

"Glad?" Louis drifted his fingertips across them once more, "Why?"

"Well, can you imagine hard wings?" Harry made a face.

" _Hard wings_." Louis snorted. "Erect wings."

"Raised wings."

"Firm wings."

"Sexually stimulated wings."

"Horny wings."

"Taut wings."

"Ready-to-shag wings."

They both started laughing, and it was at that moment that Niall popped his head around the door.

"I heard the words ready to shag, and thought I'd intervene," he said, concerned, "Practice safe sex, kiddos."

"Niall!" Harry gasped.

"Niall-- ww w w  w f nvdfvbvb--" Louis began, but Niall just winked at them.

"Hey, I won't judge. Wings away at the table, though," he grinned, and pointed towards the kitchen, "Pie's out."

-

When they got to the kitchen, Liam was already sat there, attempting to tuck in to what appeared to be a neither sweet or savoury pie. Louis teemed with dread: there was a reason why Louis did the cooking in the dorm.

"Help yourselves to whatever you want," Niall grinned, "You especially, Louis, since you paid for all of this shit."

"Great," Louis groaned, and Harry looked at them both, quizzically so.

"I think it looks beautiful," he commented, peaceful.

"See?" Niall pointed at Harry, "That's the fuckin' spirit, Harry, my boy!"

He shelved out a slice for Harry, and then one for Louis. While Louis was very hesitant to tuck in, Harry ate with massive bites, and had basically finished the entirety of his slice before they had even sat down.

"How bad is it?" Louis whispered.

"I love it!" Harry beamed, and looked to Niall, "Where can I find more?"

"Oh, pal, you're welcome to more," Niall shovelled him out another slice, "See, lads? This is true friendship! True dedication!"

"True _honesty_ is telling you that this pie sucks," Liam contributed, and Niall threw a sock at him.

"Is it always like this?" Harry queried, cheeks padded, and full. Somehow, he still appeared attractive, which was frustrating, even for a love god. "Between you all?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Louis grinned, as Liam threw the sock right back.

"Louis," Harry retrieved his third slice of pie in the time it took Louis to take one bite from his (which, considering the texture, was not very long). "Can I ask you something?"

Niall threw a shoe at Liam, which missed, and only just missed a vase of Louis', resting atop the coffee table. 

"Yeah, sure," Louis commented, distracted by the chaos, and sending warning glares to both Niall and Liam.

Harry, in the meanwhile, continued placidly munching. "When will the trial begin?"

"The trial?" Louis chewed, and regretted it, "Uh, when we're ready, I guess. There's usually a three to five month deadline by which we have to have our defence solid and polished."

"Not to mention evidence," Liam supplied, from the other room.

"Yeah," Louis nodded, "Not to mention evidence. But don't even get me started on that."

Liam walked through, putting his plate on the side, and sending a quick middle finger to Niall.

"What do you do in the defending?" Harry asked, "I would like to know more."

"Well," Liam spoke, tightly, "We need to prove that beyond all reasonable doubt that Harry's decision to make Sheila and Tim fall in love is not directly related to the money that they lost. They're suing primarily for that, and while the whole thing, may have caused them distress, a separate issue, the courts hardly rule in favour of it, so our main problem is the money."

"Yeah," Louis nodded, "Money. Listen, Harry, I know you hate the idea of money as payment for love, but..."

Harry watched with an apprehensive look in his eyes, borderline fearing what was to come.

"Do you even  _have_ any money?"

Harry blinked: once, twice, thrice. And then he shrugged.

"I have accumulated many precious things over the years," he spoke, "I suppose they may suffice."

"Things like what?" Niall scowled at Louis' barely touched meal.

"Well, a part of the Titanic, for one."

"The Titanic?" Louis spluttered, "You have a piece of the fucking _Titanic?_ "  
  
"Yes," Harry spoke, as if everyone did, "Is that not normal?"  
  
"How the bloody hell did you get down there?" Liam spoke, moderately concerned.

"I swam," Harry blinked, and Louis rolled his eyes: of _course_ he swam. "I also have a piece of Cleopatra's tomb, a caveman tool, and a Roman spoon."

"I...I think they'll do," Louis spoke, weakly. Holy fuck.

"I don't understand," Liam said, crossing his arms in interrogation, "How have you retrieved all of these, and lived so long, without getting bored? Without people recognising you everywhere you go?"  
  
"I reincarnate," Harry said, simply. "As I said to Louis, I am Eros, Xochipilli, Yue-Lao, Min, Siebog, Cupid, and most recently, Harlithethius. These are my reincarnations, and for each one I change to suit the sexual standards of the time."

He did a spin on the spot, and Niall raised an eyebrow.

"These are the current sexual standards for the surrounding I am in," he explained. 

"A pasty ass white boy with noodle legs and a frog mouth?" Niall asked, and when Louis frowned, slightly, he added: "Don't worry. I'm into it. But-- still."

"I wish I had an answer for why," Harry looked down, and his eyelashes were fucking huge, "But it is what it is. I am this now, and nobody knows what I shall be in the next life, and the next."

Niall blinked, "Whoa. So you've lived through all of the shit on Earth."

"Yes," Harry said, at the same time Louis said: _"Niall..."_

"Don't worry, I've only got one question," he batted his hand in Louis' face, and took a step forwards, "Were the dinosaurs really killed by a meteor, or was it an inside job?"

"Between you and me?" Harry took a step forward, eyes deep, "It was an inside job."

-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in other news: niall makes bad pies. harry likes wing innuendos, and louis has a tragic backstory involving a darth vader costume.  
> [support the fic? https://rhuubarb.tumblr.com/post/162639587883/cupids-defence-by-rhuubarb-length-92k]


	5. Chapter 5

v.

 

 

Louis would wake up to it, often. The memory of it, of _him,_ burning into his mind like the worst of dreams.

He remembered the embarrassment the most. That's the feeling that stung the hardest, causing him to shrink in hatred, his fists curling in the bed. That was the feeling that transported him back there, in the middle of the pavement, flowers in his hands and his heart on the ground.

The boy was called Colin. He was in the year above Louis, but they had shared a Biology class, eight years ago. He had a nice, bright smile, and brown eyes so deep Louis fell right into them: he just fell. At the time, he thought it was love. At the time, an innocent, sixteen-year-old Louis thought asking _him_ to Prom in front of the entire school would be a good idea.

It was not.

_"Are you serious?" Colin had frowned, simply, "I don't like you that way,"_

Pathetic little Louis was distraught. He could not, for the life of him, understand how Colin had _not_ liked him back. Where were the love gods then? Where was his blessing of luck, his harp, his golden ray of sunshine? 

He could hear the boy's thoughts, even then. It showed in his face, in the way he glanced at Louis, completely and utterly repulsed.

_Are you serious? How could you ever have thought that? Me? Go with you? To Prom? Are you that stupid?_

Stupid Louis with his silly, naive attitude. Idiotic, hormonal Louis, who thought a daft smile and positive attention equated to anything more than pity, and an urge not to fail Biology for the second year in a row.

 _"Sorry,"_ The boy had grimaced, stepping away, _"I like the costume, though."_

It was a costume he had spent all of his money on, for some dumb gimmick. For some dumb charm. As if it would help. He heard the boy liked Star Wars, and they had giggled over it, once, in class. The boy had looked at Louis as if he molded the stars, in that one second of bliss, and that was enough.

Louis was lovestruck.

 _"I'm sure you'll find someone,"_ was the last thing Colin said, an afterthought.

Swiftly so, he pressed an awkward pat to Louis' shoulder, and left.

The crowd pressed inwards. It wasn't long until the "Oh my God, is that Louis Tomlinson?"/"Did he just ask him out?"/"I didn't know he was gay!" began. And so he ran. He ran, and ran, and ran, until he could go no further, and then he collapsed, in a nearby park, tears falling just because they could, sticking to him and his nose and the fabric of his dumb Darth Vader mask.

-

As Louis woke, he did so gasping. He could feel the sting of his thighs from his run, still, eight years after. There was unsettling burn in his stomach that would not budge, as the nightmare reminded him why he did not believe in love. The answer was simple: He could not trust his own eyes.

Beside him, the latest one night stand stirred. They were a different man this time, with bright, short red hair, and a loud snore. It was impossible to sleep: Louis wondered how he had managed it, even without his nightmare. He decided it was probably a good time to leave when a text popped across his phone.

**hey**

And then, a minute later:

**hey**

Frowning, he typed a response.

_who is this?_

**it's harry**

**niall bought me a phone**

_he..what_

**he bought me a phone he said you owe him money now**

_no way_

**yes way. he also said hes charging interest**

**i do not know this interest but i hope they have a good time being charged**

_harry, youre meant to be sleeping_

**i require no sleep**

Louis groaned, deeply, before deciding that maybe going back to sleep was a better idea. He sat up on the bed, careful not to disturb the stranger sprawled opposite him, and looked around the room as the texts kept ringing in.

**niall fell asleep on my sofa so i could not sleep even if i wished to**

**he drools**

**louis why do humans drool**

_I guess they've just got spit they need to get rid of, I dunno_

**strange**

**where are you**

**louis**

_why?_

**you left really abruptly this night**

**no**

**last night**

**it is morning now, i think**

_had some place to beeebb_

**what place**

**what beeb**

**i am curious**

**ARE YOU AT YOUR LOVERS HOUSE**

_harry, Im trying to sleep_

**YOU ARE ARENT YOU**

**TELL ME ABOUT IT**

**if you wish**

**louuuuuuuuuuuuuuuis**

**louis**

**louis**

**louis i believe i am bored**

_I cant do anything about that, I'm sorry_

**but youre interesting**

**now i am sad**

**sad face**

**:(**

**LOOK**

**LOUIS**

**LOUIS LOOK**

**THERE APPEARED A SMILEY FACE**

**HOW DO I DO IT AGAIN**

**:)**

**no thats the wrong one**

**louis?**

_harry_

**louis im bored**

_Id rather be bored than having my ears bleed_

**ears can bleed? what is making your ears bleed?**

_snores_

**you can hear niall from here?**

**WAIT**

**WAIT OH**

**ITS YOUR LOVER ISNT IT**

_not the one you think_

**a new one?**

_yea_

**IS IT SOMEONE YOU KNOW**

_not really. met em in a bar_

**louis thats daaangerous**

**what if he was hades**

_i think if he was the god of death hed have slightly more intimidating snores_

_and less flowers in his room_

**hades plays many tricks on mortals**

**you never know what he may do next**

_hes literally sleeping next to me harry_

_and gods dont sleep do they_

**we can when we want**

**but your point is taken**

**i do not believe hades is a fan of flowers anyway**

**how many flowers can you see**

_i dunno its dark_

_a lot._

**i like flowers**

**can you bring me some**

_harry i cant just take some dudes flowers_

**:(**

**I DID IT AGAIN**

**LOUIS I DID IT AGAIN**

_yea you do it by holding the button at the top of the phone for a long time_

After that message sent, Harry didn't reply for a while. In this time, Louis got out of bed, and got changed, finding his clothes in various locations around the guy's apartment. It was only after he'd looked out of the window that he realised he literally did not know where he was.

"Shittt," he said. The streets outside looked completely, completely alien. Not to mention the fact that Louis was more than a little drunk, and it was pitch black out there...

**that was not nice louis william tomlinson**

**pressing the button turns the phone off**

**there was no sad face**

**but now my face is sad**

**it took me a very long time to find the button once more**

**that was mean**

_im sorry_

_im mean when im tired_

Louis sent the message and began scrambling, trying to get his phone to load a location, any nearby taxi stops...But there came nothing. His internet, endlessly shitty, seemed partial to dropping out on him whenever it wished. Harry seemed to be using it all up with the incessant barrage of messages he was intent on sending.

**it is alright i forgive you**

**you may make it up to me** **by showing me where the smiley faces are in real life**

**if you want to**

**of course i shall not force you**

**i find i work better under instruction however**

**this new world is strange**

**louis :(**

**louis are you there**

_harry_

**louis!**

_harry i dont know where i am_

**what?**

_this is bullshit_

_i dont know where i am_

_i literally dont_

_im drunk_

_this guy's flat has no clues whatsoever_

**look from the window**

_i cant see anything. fuck_

**are there no lights to guide your way?**

_no theres just buildings everywhere . no sign of the river at all or anything landmarky_

**wake the man from his slumber**

He realised Harry had a bit of a point, and so he did so, staggering over to the bed. The man wouldn't wake, and the one time he nearly did, he told Louis to piss off, and went straight back to bed again.

Louis kicked the bed, "Hey! I'm talking to you, you asshole!"

Snores once more.

"Fuck," Louis walked around the room, "Fuck fuck fuck."

_he wont help_

**calm yourself**

_i cant be calm harry im drunk_

**i will help you**

**louis**

**calm yourself**

**all is well**

_harry_

_harry can you wake niall up. i need a lift home_

_i dont even know if im in london anymore_

_goddamn fuck_

_harry?_

_fucks sake harry_

He was frantically sending a long, long text to Liam when a knock on the door came. 

-

Harry wasn't a fan of flat blocks. 

He had decided this as he flew up all twenty floors. He had also decided that he wasn't a fan of stairs, lifts, or escalators. They all seemed quite strange to him. Everyone he passed seem to gawp and squeal at him, for whatever reason. Most recently, he wasn't too much a fan of doors, as he had discovered that when you pushed them too hard, they slammed. What purpose was an opening which made abundant noise?

The door in front of him was a deep purple. When it opened, Louis appeared. He was leaning against the door frame, eyes heavy with tire, and his hair ruffled, as if he had just been in a tornado. His shirt was on backward, and his mouth was parted wide. As he took Harry in, his eyes closed, a little.

"How the fuck," he began, and then swooned.

"You have drunken too much," Harry said, holding him up, "You must rest."

"Drunken. It's drunk," Louis blinked, highly confused, "How did you, How did--"  
  
"I listened to your heartbeat," Harry explained.

Louis' eyes scrumpled first in disgust, then in disbelief.

"You," he shook his head, "Wharhehrh?"

"I can concentrate hard on the heartbeats of those I know," Harry said, and they began to walk, Louis leaning on Harry for support, "When I do this, I can fly until it grows louder."

"You flew?" Louis blinked, and he shook his head again, "Harry, that's dangerous."

"So is being in a complete stranger's house," Harry retorted, "Completely drunken."

"It's drunk. And I'm not completely drunk," Louis argued, as they approached a window, "I'd at least say fifty percent. What are you doing?"

"We're flying out," Harry responded, pushing it open, "I cannot go down those stairs once more."  
  
"Buh," Louis pointed, weakly, "The lift."

"It is not working," Harry shook his head, "There was tape over the entrance, and even when I tore it down, the doors would not submit to my hands."

Louis looked at him for a moment, as if he wasn't entirely sure Harry was real. Under the lights, which, for some reason, shone yellow, Louis' eyes remained an extraordinary shade of blue. Harry had seen many humans, and many things, and never before had he experienced such a colour.

"We're gonna die."

"That will not happen," Harry assured.

He pushed the window ajar, until the space was wide enough for them to both fly out. The gush of wind was alarming, but what was more alarming was the loud groan Louis emitted, leaning into Harry like a last resort.

Harry jarred with concern, the wind blowing his hair. "What is it? Are you hurt?"

"Why are you like this," Louis whimpered, "I've, I've known you a few days. And you...You're opening a window... You flew across a city, and..."

"You are my friend," Harry affirmed, "When you need my help, I must give it."

"I don't get you," Louis murmured, and rubbed his face into Harry's shoulder, "You're such an idiot sometimes."

Silence hung, in which Louis sighed, and Harry was more confused than ever.

"A surprisingly warm one, however," Louis added, "The one in there was just cold."

The random intimacy confused Harry, and so he stood there, holding the window with one hand. "I...I have never been called that before."

"Well, now you know," Louis grumbled, "You're a warm idiot. _I'm_ a drunk idiot."

Harry did not understand what intelligence levels had to do with escaping from a stranger with a weird door. Louis swayed, leaning further onto Harry's shoulder, and concern pierced Harry's chest.

"I am not completely assured that you are okay," Harry lifted his face up by the chin, "How much did you consume?"

"Consume?" Louis snorted, "Ya mean drink? I honestly don't know."

"Why would you do that to yourself?"  
  
"I dunno," Louis shrugged, "Fun."

Harry did not know how to deal with intoxicated individuals. Gods did not regularly get drunk because of the great volume it took to get them so. Louis, bubbly and loose in his arms, was not an outcome he had previous experience of. Niall, however, may have been better equipped.

"Louis, we must get home," he insisted, as Louis began falling asleep on him: his breathing slow, his eyes shut against Harry's shoulder.

Louis snorted, awakening: "We don't even know where home _is,_ Harry. How...Is...How did you get here?"  
  
"I flew," Harry explained, and pointed to the window, "We shall fly back."

"Buh..." Louis stared aimlessly into the dark, "How?"

"Niall's heartbeat," Harry smiled, smugly, "I can track it, and get us there."

Harry sensed that in any other state Louis would have downright refused. But in this pliant, tired one, he simply blinked, looking at the big outside, and shrugged.

"Well, it's not the most stupid thing I've heard today," Louis tilted his head, "Fuck it."

-

He made a strange gargling sound when Harry picked him up, for reasons Harry knew not. 

"I will not drop you," Harry promised, "Do not be scared."  
  
"I'm not," Louis insisted, "I'm, I'm not."

"Then what?"

"Are you a bodybuilder?" Louis asked, deeply concerned.

Harry frowned at him, "No. Why would I be?"

"I dunno," Louis' feet swayed in the air, "I just, I dunno. I always thought I was heavy."  
  
"You are no such thing," Harry said, "Why would you think that?"  
  
"I dunno," Louis said, and a sort of manic giggle escaped his lips, "Nobody ever picked me up before."

"Now, a Greek God is your first," Harry commented, proudly, and Louis shrugged.

"I suppose that's something," he conceded, and before he could change his mind, Harry jumped.

The wind blew against them, horribly so as they fell, and Louis squealed: unaware, apparently, that Harry's grip on him was unwavering. The London night was thick, and cold, and it zipped through Harry's wings like barbed wire. It took him a moment to steady himself in the air, and when he did, Louis' screams started to melt into words.

"Holsyshsti," he panted, into Harry's chest, "Holshshsnfn. Harry!"

"You are safe," Harry promised, and he was, truly. Harry would rather die himself than place a mortal's existence in danger.

"This is not how I imagined flying would be," Louis panted, "I mean, in Superman it looked f-fun, but--"

He looked down, and wailed, and the sudden noise disoriented Harry further. He buckled, just a little, but did not lose grip. He needed Louis to remain still.

"Oh fuck!" Louis yelled, "Oh fuck! Oh fuck!"

"It is harder if you look down," Harry advised, and Louis' grip on him tightened.

"This is scary, this is scary," Louis closed his eyes, "Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck."

"Calm," Harry murmured, "Louis. Calm."

Louis' breathing was erratic, but he at least managed to stop his squealing, and look up at Harry. His eyes were even bluer against the sky, which rose dark, and punctuated with stars.

"What if people see us?" He wondered.

"They will not," Harry said.

"But what if they do?"

"Then they will have seen something impossible today," Harry watched the horizon, "Louis, I promise you, we are safe."

Louis relaxed, but only a little. His gaze remained focused on Harry's chest, his arms gripped tight around his neck. 

"Tell me of something," Harry asked, to distract him. He had seen on television that humans liked to be distracted.

"Okay," Louis rambled, quiet, "Okay. Anything?"

"I will give you a topic," Harry advised, thoughtfully. "Why do you sleep with those you do not know?"  
  
"It's nice," Louis' voice was shaky below the wind, "Makes me forget, I guess."

"Forget what?"

"The world," Louis turned into Harry's chest, nose pressing at his bicep, "The bad shit. The bad stuff. Everything."

"Everything," Harry repeated, concerned.

"Yeah," Louis closed his eyes, "This shitty fucking fuck fest of a place. This-- this big gaping asshole that's a hundred and twenty percent shit."

Harry frowned. "Do you truly see it that way?"

"Yea," Louis glared, "Why wouldn't I?"

"I do not see it as so," Harry said, "It cannot be that bad."  
  
"How would you know?" Louis laughed, "You haven't been here long enough."

"I know that there is good," Harry advised, "You, for example, are good. Niall is good and pizza is good. Hats are good, and so are sofas. Liam is good, although he is sometimes mean. The world has so much to offer that I know, already, that it is not all bad. It would be cruel for me to see it as such."

"How can you say that? You-- you're being sued," Louis frowned, "For doing your job. For making someone happy! How can you say the world is good?"

Louis was oddly passionate when drunk. Compassionate, too. It was not that Harry had not seen these traits before in him. But, in his tired state, they had become more pronounced, and he had become less reluctant about restricting them.  
  
"Because no matter how much it hates me, the world needs me," Harry passed the river, a city of light down below, and all around them, "And I must forgive it."

"How?" Louis' eyes looked glassy, and far away, "How can you just-- Do that?"

"I realise that it is what it is," Harry found the words, "And then, I move on. Because that is all I can do."

Silence hung in the air, and Harry focused on Niall's heartbeat--a very reassuring  _duh-duh, duh-duh_ , and then they landed at the block of apartments. Louis slowly let go of Harry, almost numbed, and he was wobbly on his feet once he began to move. Harry held a hand out to support him, but he pushed it away.

"It-- I'm fine," he mumbled, and so they walked.

-

Louis needed help to the lift, but aside from that, he was fine. More than anything, he seemed locked tightly in thought, his steps weighed with deliberation and distraction more than intoxication, and he blindly accepted Harry's guidance even if he did not require it.

When they entered the apartment, Niall sprung from the chair on which he sat, body taut with stress. He looked at Louis, then he looked at Harry, and then he frowned.

"Where the fuck have you been?" He asked, to both.

"Glad you missed us, Ni," Louis gargled, and walked past him. Harry watched the movement, then waved at Niall, who glared back, as if being mocked. Harry really did not understand humans sometimes.

"I'm serious," Niall stood, hands on hips, "You weren't answerin' your phones."  
  
"You were not either," Harry pointed out, kindly, and Niall went red.

"I was fuckin' tired," He argued, "Ya know. I was sleeping, because it's nighttime, and what humans usually do at night is _sleep_."

The last word was directed, bitterly, towards Louis, who was attempting to pour himself a drink from the sink, but found he kept missing.

Harry approached, and steadied his hand on the glass, "Is that better?"

"Yea," Louis said, quietly, and sent Harry a warm look, "Thanks."

He looked very tired, and almost broken, as he brought the drink to his lips. Niall watched him with a deep-set expression of disapproval on his face, and sighed.

"You need to stop doin' it, Lou," Niall said, after a while, "You need to stop."

Louis rolled his head back and sighed, nasally, the movement steaming up the glass. 

"Are we really going to do this now?" He asked, beyond tired.

"It's not good for you," Niall reiterated, "Or healthy. I mean, it's one thing doin' it with guys who you know. But guys you don't... I mean... That's just wrong. It's wrong, and it's stupid, and you deserve a fuck ton better. Liam and me? We thought you were just goin' for a drink."

"How do you know I didn't?" Louis snarled, and Harry felt cold at the unusual tone on him.

"You sent panic texts, Lou," Niall genuinely looked remorseful, "I mean, I had to convince Liam not to call a search party. And we know what you're like, you get carried away, and--"

"I'm fine," Louis snapped, "Okay? I'm fine. I _was_ fine. Harry was there, with me. I was fine."

Niall glanced at him. "Really?"

Harry looked from Niall to Louis, apprehension building within him. "Yes. I brought Louis home."

Niall's face crumpled in confusion. "How?"

"Harry has some weird heartbeat shit he can use to track me," Louis waved his hand, "So there you go, Niall. Your conscience is clear, I won't die in some random dude's flat, and if you don't trust me, you can always use Harry to make sure I'm still on the face of the Earth. Oh, what do you know? It all works the fuck out! Can't wait to have the same lecture from Liam tomorrow, because apparently, I'm a little toddler everyone's sharing custody of, instead of an adult _able to make my own fucking decisions._ "

Harry made a mental note to himself that Louis was certainly little, but he was not a toddler. His line of reasoning seemed askew.

Niall sighed and shook his head. "If you want to ruin yourself, Lou, then fine. I can't stop you."

"Great. Glad we ironed that out," Louis fake-grinned, and put the glass in the sink, "Now, if you don't mind, I'll be going to my room now."

He began walking, and then stumbled, leaning on the wall for support.

"Or, rather," he added, "I'll be crawling to my room, because my legs have just decided to-- die on me."

Way too quickly than he would like to have admitted, Harry swept him up once more, holding his underarm. "I will assist you."

And so he did. Niall watched them leave with a sigh, and simply sat back in the chair from which he came.

-

Louis got undressed as if Harry wasn't there, which probably wasn't the best move he could have made, but at the time, he just wanted to sleep. Harry just stood at the other side of the room, awkwardly trying to look at anything else, which Louis admitted was very gentlemanly of him. A part of him wanted Harry to look, just to see what his reaction would be. But the other part of him, the more sensible, selfish part, wanted to tell everyone in the vicinity to fuck off, and be done with it.

He climbed in bed, the same bed on which Harry had sat all that time ago, and placed his hands over his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said. 

He was unbelievably tired, his entire body working against him, his speech unreliable from drink and ache and a lot of things that made no sense.

Harry looked up, cautiously so, and he frowned. "What for?"  
  
"Making you--" Louis waved his arm, "Listen to that. It wasn't fair on you."

"It is okay," Harry walked, and came to sit on the edge of the bed, "I have heard many mortal disputes in my time."

"Have you solved any?" Louis asked, genuinely curious.

Harry laughed, slowly. "I am usually the cause of the ones I hear."

"Well," Louis shuffled, "That's unfortunate."

"It is," Harry patted the duvet, "You should rest, Louis."

"I feel as though I owe you an explanation," Louis tried, fighting to stay awake.

"If you feel so strongly, you will give me one," Harry nodded, expression peaceful. Did nothing shake the guy? "Later."

"Later," Louis tried, and closed his eyes, "Yes. I like that idea."

The next thing he knew, he was asleep, and all he could remember of Harry as he drifted away, was the outline of wings, and the wind shooting across his skin.

-

"Wakey wakey," A voice said, and Louis cringed.

He sank in his shoulders, and lifted himself up in bed: hair ruffled and mottled on the pillow. He squinted, frowning, and struggled to see.

"What?" 

He blinked, and a blonde head came into focus: Niall. Surprise, followed by confusion, ebbed over Louis as Niall awkwardly shifted a plate onto Louis' side table, and placed his hands behind his back.

"A peace offering," Niall shrugged, "I don't know if you remember what happened last night, but I do, and...Well. It's your life. I've been telling you for years to change it, and see it my way, and, well. It's safe to say I've grown tired of trying."

"Sucks for you," Louis blinked.

"Yeah," Niall said, "But it also sucks for you. I shouldn't have pressured you like that, and I'm sorry."

Louis paused for a beat. Niall had never, in all of his years of nagging him about the one night stand thing, apologised for it. A part of Louis wished he wouldn't, because he knew he deserved it: the nagging, the arguments, the tension. He also knew that Niall was completely right. But, nonetheless, the out-of-the-blue confession flooded Louis' chest with warmth, and even if he did not deserve it, he couldn't help but smile.

"Apology accepted," Louis nodded, "What is this?"  
  
"English Breakfast," Niall said. "Harry's already had his. There was screaming involved."

"I'd like to have seen that."

"Do you want me to send him through?" Niall asked, "I'm sure he'll replicate the noises for ya."

"No, I'll come through," Louis said, "Thanks, though."

Niall patted the duvet, a sly, slight awkwardness still in his posture, and left.

Louis watched him leave, and, staring at the plate of food, became lost in thought. He knew Niall's point all too well, as it had been their main point of disagreement over the years, even since university. It would be  _self-denial_ this, and  _condom_ that, and they would not talk to each other for days over it. There were three main veins of Niall's argument:

1\. Niall thinking that Louis hates himself. 

Which, admittedly, was true. For a plethora of reasons Louis loved to think about, and hated himself more because he loved to think about them.

2\. Niall thinking that Louis wants to punish himself.

Which was also true, in many ways. If anyone deserved to not experience love, Louis felt as though it would be him. He took a shot at that, and from his one attempt at romance it could only be concluded that he was too pathetic, needy, naive and stupid to ever chase it again. He had built himself a good life since then, a good life void of that sort of love, and it had gone so well that he never, ever wanted people to see what he was like before. What he was capable of being: that young, dumb, desperate kid inside, ever so eager to love. It was a side of him he'd locked away a long, long time ago, and to release it would only bring untold chaos. So, he punished himself for it's existence, and taunted himself with the realisation that the kind of love he was chasing would never end in anything special.

3\. Niall thinking that Louis is lonely.

This was the part that Louis had a problem with, because it came with it the strong, deep sense of motherhood that Niall always felt as though he had to impose upon Louis, and Louis hated and felt smothered by it, every time. First off: he didn't deserve it. Second off: he wasn't lonely in a way that he'd ever admit, out loud, to anyone. To do so would just invoke pity, and Louis had had enough of that for a lifetime. In all aspects of life, Louis would prefer to be anything but pitied. Third off: it was deeply, deeply annoying to have Niall Horan attempt to rectify your love life.

 _"Just ask one of them out on a date, at least,"_ he had begged, in their last year of uni, _"I mean, if you're gunna sleep with absolute strangers, at least make them less of a stranger, you know?"_

 _"I don't want to date them, Niall,"_ Louis had rolled his eyes, _"For the last time. It takes away all of the fun."_

 _"Or,"_ Niall raised his eyebrows, _"You're just piss-scared of commitment, having your heart broken, being rejected, or all three."_

Another point Niall was painfully correct about. But, as right as Niall may have been, Louis couldn't stop. As much as he hated himself, he needed to feel loved by someone in a way that wasn't permanent. He liked the choice of it all: having someone need him, and then having the power to leave them at any time he wanted. Secretly, he also liked the sensation of being held: someone on his skin, even if it was briefly, and it not meaning a thing. His own safety, or integrity, didn't seem to matter in comparison to that feeling.

In conclusion, Niall was right. In every way, in every side of this argument, he was right. But Louis could not agree with him: not out loud. His pride would not allow it, and the prospect of everyone learning how pathetic he was, again, was something that he could not chance.

This in mind, he started on his breakfast, and hated himself.

-

Harry watched the sun roll across the sky. He liked the view from Louis' apartment, he had decided. It had many big, grand windows, that gave a great view of the skyline, as well as people below. They were tiny on the ground, like little specks, and it was incredible to imagine that such a tiny set of heads held so much within. Harry watched them pass on by and wished, endlessly, that he had his bow and arrow with him. His heart had been skipping a beat for quite some time now, alerting him to people who needed to fall in love, and he was growing restless with the need to help them. But he had made a promise to forfeit his bow and arrow, and so it was. Gods went back on things quite a lot, but never their word. Never a promise.

Another thing he liked was ruffled shirts. He was wearing one that afternoon: a puffy, pink one that reflected purple against the mirror's reflection of the sky. It was a little cold to wear in the October weather, but Harry did not mind. It was worth the discomfort to enjoy such an item, as he had learned. He reminded himself to take a few back with him to Olympia: his mother would approve.

The door to Louis' room shuttled open, slowly, and Louis, equally as slowly, ambled out of it. Harry stood to attention, ready to assist if needed, but Louis seemed to be making his way to the kitchen with little difficulty. He was wearing a massive white hoodie, one that engulfed him, and the hood of it was up. Harry soon understood why.

It soon became clear that the patch of skin around his eyes and nose were red, as if he had been rubbing at them, and he threw a few tissues in the bin as he passed. Harry came to the steady conclusion that Louis had been crying, and he instantly neared him.

As he noticed Harry, Louis' red face forced itself into an expression of normalcy. "Hey."

"You are upset," Harry said, concerned.

"No, I'm Louis," Louis chuckled, weakly, and walked past Harry to place his plate in the kitchen.

The change in direction was obviously a rouse: behind Harry's back, Louis was, no doubt, trying to make himself appear happy once more. But Harry would not have it. If someone he saw was in need, he would make sure that they were attended to.

"Louis," Harry pressed, "I know who you are. I also know that you are sad."

Louis sighed and rubbed at his forehead, a floppy sleeve that drooped over his eyebrows. "I'm fine."

"You have been crying," Harry whispered, sincere.

Louis met his gaze, briefly, and irritated, before sighing. "I need to get to work."

"I shall come with you," Harry offered.

"No," Louis paused, "You need to stay here."

"No," Harry challenged, "Liam said as long as I have supervision I am free to go as I wish. And I wish to be with you at this moment in time."

"Harry," Louis said, bewildered, "Why?"

"You are sad. I wish to make you better, in any way that I can."

Louis walked past him once more, and their shoulders brushed. "You can help me by staying here. I'm not doing anything interesting at work, you know. Just finding reference cases."

"For my case."

"Yeah," Louis said, "Honestly, Harry. You can stay here."

"I wish to come," Harry jutted his chin upwards, "If it concerns me, I would like to be there."

Louis eyed him, suspiciously. "I guess you have that right."

"Yes!" Harry nodded, "Exactly that! I believe in rights for all."

Louis nodded, lightly, and it was clear that he was trying to shrug the conversation off. Humans did that, sometimes. But Harry was unwavering.

"I also do not believe you should be alone."

That statement seemed to shock Louis, as he stopped in the doorway to his room, and held onto it for a moment, as if he could not move, or find the strength to. At some point he turned around, bewildered, to look at Harry. His eyes were glassy.

"I," he began, "Er,"

"I also would not like to be alone," Harry saved him from his shock. "Niall says that it is the weekend, and because it is this time, he would like to go home and watch binge Casualty."

Louis smiled and his face seemed to split in two. "Sounds like Niall."

"If Niall is to do the watch binge, then I will be alone," Harry took a step forwards, "Thus, I should be with you."

He waited for a moment, as the suggestion rotated around Louis' head. And then, Louis nodded, his mouth pursed in thought.

"Okay," he conceded, slowly, "But I promise you, I won't be doing much."  
  
"That is fine," Harry nodded, too, and smiled in satisfaction, "Because as well as that, you will also not be alone."

-

The office felt so empty without Liam or Niall. But, as they were off actually using the weekend for what it was for, Louis didn't feel so bad about opening up without them. Harry seemed confused at the prospect of Louis locking the door behind them, though. He frowned as Louis did up the lock, and gazed glassily at the thick old doors.

"You have sealed us inside," he commented, amazed.

"Yup."

"Why did you do this?" Harry followed Louis up the stairs, "Are we to fly home?"

"No," Louis chuckled, slightly, and put his hands in his hoodie pocket, "I can unlock it anytime. It's just so clients don't think we're open."

"Are you not usually open on the weekend?"

"Nah," Louis said, "We save it for other things. Things we wanna do outside of working."

"But you wish to work."

"Yeah," Louis neared his office door, and unlocked it, "It calms me."

"I find strange things calm me also," Harry stopped at the doorway, and frowned. "This is your office."

Louis was halfway towards the bookcase, but stopped nonetheless. "Yeah?"

Harry began looking around at it, from the doorway, eyes wide with wonder.

"What's up?" Louis turned, "Don't you like it?"

"I have never been here before," Harry remarked, voice soft, as though he did not wish to disturb the space.

"You can come in, you know," Louis chuckled, "You're allowed."  
  
Harry did, and he looked like a Disney Princess: arms spread wide, footsteps light, mouth gaped. He rushed over to the newspaper articles above Louis' desk instantly, and ran his fingertips over each one.

"Hero of men," he whispered, quietly, and Louis shook his head with amusement. "You put these up yourself?"

"Yeah," Louis heaved a massive folder from his bookcase, and huffed with the weight of it.

"All of them?"

Louis chuckled. "Yep."

"Why?" Harry turned, "What are their purpose?"

"Well, to help me remember, for one," Louis sat on the floor with the folder, and began sifting through, "Liam and me did a lot here, once upon a time."

"You still do a lot now," Harry smiled, warmly, his way, "You are helpful to all."

"Well," Louis shrugged, "Maybe not _all._ If you've got an annoying next door neighbour or a dodgy wedding contract, then, sure."

"I love weddings," Harry said, dreamily, and Louis rolled his eyes, because  _of course_ that's all Harry would infer from that statement, "What is that?"

He was pointing at the folder Louis was currently looking through.

"Oh, it's," Louis sucked his thumb: he'd gotten a paperclip, "It's a set of files concerning corporate mergers."

Harry blinked.

"When two companies become one, I mean," Louis shrugged, "For example, when Sheila and Tim Lyvoninsky got married, their companies merged, and that's why they're so mad at you."

"They lost currency," Harry remarked, and sat down beside Louis, "What are these?"

"These are all of the law files I could find concerning corporate mergers involving the Supreme Court," Louis said, "That's the highest court over here. And basically, we have a system where if the Supreme Court rules on something, all of the smaller courts have to follow their decision. It's called judicial precedent."

"Judicial precedent," Harry repeated, "They remind me very much of Zeus's rules of Olympia." 

"Wait. Zeus makes rules?" 

"Yes," Harry nodded, "They are very complex, hard to follow, and would take years to explain as they are, so they are not really worth explaining. But go on."

"Well," Louis explained, "I'm thinking if the Supreme Court had a case kind of like this a few years ago, it would give us a clue as to where the fuck to start with our defence. You know?"

"I think I understand," Harry nodded, slowly, "And I wish to help."

"Er," Louis looked around him, pondering, "Can you understand legal documents?"

"I can try," Harry nodded, "It does not take me long to real mortal texts."

"Are you sure?" Louis laughed, "These files aren't your average mortal text. I mean, they're actually pretty heavy."

Harry smiled, privately, and his face lit up. Louis felt himself infected by it, despite not knowing the reason behind the expression.

"What?" He grinned, helplessly.

"Olympia texts were written by the Titans themselves, and take millennia to read. It is rumoured that not even Athena herself has managed to finish one."

"Whoa," Louis commented, "So, wait, you never read one either?"  
  
"I stole a peek at one once," Harry said, and his eyes were of a dream, "They are forbidden to younger gods, but I disobeyed my mother's wishes, and began reading a page. They are stored within the garden of Parthenos, and by the time I had finished the first page, all of the flowers within the garden had wilted."

"Holy shit," Louis frowned, "They die when someone reads the books?"

"No," Harry shook his head, softly so. "The season had changed. I had been there so long, I did not realise. My mother was quite annoyed with me when she found out."

"God," Louis snorted, "I can imagine. Can you remember what any of it said?"  
  
"Mostly myths of how the Earth came to be," Harry said, "But I was only small, and I have lived for some time. I am also not uncertain my mother did not attempt to bewitch me into forgetting all I had read."

Louis laughed at that, remembering the one time he had stolen his sister's bike in youth, and his mother refused to speak to him coherently until he gave it back. When he'd tried to talk to her, she had made fart noises, pure and simple and in the end, it made him laugh so much that he _had_ to give the bike back, in fear of wetting himself.

Mothers were strange, sometimes. Then again, he wouldn't have swapped his for the world.

"If I can read a page of such an ancient text," Harry said, satisfied, "Then I can handle your files of law."

"What about the legal lexicon?" Louis asked, "I mean, like, the court references, and stuff?"  
  
"You will help me with those," Harry smiled, warmly, and patted Louis on the knee, "Where do I start?"

"Uh," Louis reached, and handed him one. "This one. Try not to cut yourself, the edges are sharp."  
  
"You have done so," Harry frowned, staring at Louis' aching finger, "I will heal you."  
  
Usually, Louis would have protested, but his finger _really_ did hurt. And so he held it out, and so Harry's hands closed around it, and the warm, golden glow arose, as it had done so many times before. Even after Harry's touch left, the aftershocks of it still remained, and ebbed, within Louis like a tidal wave.

"How do you do that?" He asked, after a while.   
  
Harry had begun reading his file, face scrumpled in concentration, and the curly flop of his fringe settled across his face. He blew it out of his eye and thought for a moment.

"Eons ago, we were created to help humans in any way that we could," he spoke, words heavy with duty, "In that comes the power to heal, both ourselves and others. In being immortal we can serve humanity best. And in being healers we can save those who would otherwise not be saved."

"Do they have any idea of what's going on down here?" Louis laughed, but there was no soul in it, "I mean, if they're here to help us, we certainly need it now. Where are they?"  
  
Harry drew in a cold breath. "Ever since the World Wars, Zeus has advised that we use our powers less on Earth to help humans. He saw a kind of human that he had never seen before: one completely cruel, one completely remorseless, one that would lead numerous innocents to fight battles against those the innocent had no quarrels with. He assumed that if the humans knew of us, they would try to get us to help end more lives than they would attempt to save them, and that was not what he intended our gift to be."

"But surely not helping at all is worse than trying to help people, right?" Louis frowned, "I mean, there's always gunna be innocents out there. And they're the ones that need the help more than anyone."

"Zeus does not give reason for his decision," Harry sighed, "Or change. But we are allowed to help in smaller ways, as I do, as long as it does not cause chaos."

Chaos, as in, a massive court case. Suddenly, Harry's world made a lot more sense.

"Ah."

Harry sighed. "In being discovered by mortals, and potentially uprooting the entire immortal world, I have brought shame to Zeus's philosophy. In having my honour, and the honour of the gods as a unit, questioned in such a negative light, I have brought shame to them all."

"Harry," Louis said, "I'm never gunna not be sorry they did that to you."

"It is what it is," Harry sighed, "I will never be sorry that I tried to help."

Louis smiled, just a little. "I never thanked you. For yesterday."

"Technically, it was this morning," Harry nodded, "But you are welcome."

"I've got one question about that," Louis said, his face taut with both anticipation and fear, "Did we really fly?"

"Yes," Harry said, seriously,and Louis broke out in hysteric laughter, "You would not keep from moving. It became quite problematic."

"I'm sorry," Louis covered his face with a sleeve, "Oh my gosh. I'm so sorry."

"It is quite alright," Harry went back to his reading, deep dimples carved into his cheeks, "The overall experience was... Enlightening."

"We fucking _flew,_ " Louis commented, hands on his face, "I can't believe it. I don't believe it. Why?"

"--Did we fly?" He was sent a quizzical look. "The lift would not work, and you were incredibly drunk, far from home, and in a lover's flat."  
  
"Oh God," Louis groaned, "Yeah. I'm sorry about that."

"Louis," Harry looked at him, sternly, "Do not be sorry. It is quite alright."

Louis suddenly shrank in his shoulders, the realisation of what he promised Harry that morning sinking in. "Do...Do you still want me to tell you about the thing with Niall, or..."

Harry's expression was soft, and forgiving.

"My ears are open," Harry said, "But, if you excuse the intrusion, I get the feeling that you no longer need me to."

Louis could've cried.

For some reason or another, Harry's words meant a lot more than he could convey, and the feeling of being free from having to explain himself, and the crushing, sinking feeling of self hatred, was one that he could not describe in words. So, instead, he averted his eyes to his files, and resumed his reading. The silence was comfortable, but Louis, in his grand rush of emotion, felt as though he should cover it with a veil of nonchalance in some form or the other.

"Do Gods get those a lot, then?" He tried for subtlety, "Feelings?"

"More than you would know," Harry grinned, "As a result of feelings, gods have done a great deal of things. My grandfather, for example, had hundreds of children in response to his."

Louis stared in awe. "Really?"

"Yes," Harry said, mutely, "But I assure you, my feelings are not quite the same."

Louis laughed more than he would liked to have admitted, and Harry just grinned to himself, nose facing the paper.

- 

They sat there for the rest of the day, quietly reading. As it turned out, they couldn't find any cases that related in the way that Louis hoped they would, but it was calming to just sit and not have to worry about the outside world for a change, and Harry seemed happy enough reading case law for the remainder of their time at the office: a fact that confused Louis to no end. Not even _judges_ enjoyed reading case law, and they were the ones paid to know it inside out. But, after a few hours with one of Louis' numerous case law files, Harry seemed to be hooked.

When Louis explained this to Liam at the office, two days later, Liam did not believe his ears.

"You're joking," he said, expression blank, "Are you sure it wasn't the _OK!_ Magazine in disguise?"

"Do you really think I read the _OK!_ Magazine?" Louis blinked, highly unimpressed, "Let alone own it?"

"I don't know," Liam hushed, "I mean, there's no way he enjoyed that horrible, no good volume of a book. Not even the people who wrote it enjoyed it, and they're the ones meant to be fully invested in the workings of the la--"

He halted. For, mid conversation, Harry had just walked into Louis' office, a massive stack of books in his arms, looking way too happy for his own good. He was wearing Louis' hoodie from two days before, and Louis had seen him steal it from Louis' room, with his own two eyes, but didn't have the heart to call him out on it. He was being so peaceful after all: helping Louis' mood more than he'd like to admit. And, he also made Liam's face writhe with confusion, which was always a bonus.

"Hello," Harry greeted, happily, before sitting in the corner, and diving back in. The book was actually bigger than he was. 

"Holy," Liam started, "Fuck."

Louis nodded. "I know, right?"

"When you said you'd be bringing him to work, I thought you meant he'd be, I dunno," Liam gaped, "Counting hairs or something. Not-- this."

"Hey," Louis shrugged, "If it makes him happy, then..."

He began clearing his desk, and Liam neared him, voice suddenly quiet.

"Are you okay and everything?" He pressed. "I never got to ask. Niall told me the basics, but..."

"I'm fine," Louis insisted, "Honestly. Work's helping. It was just a little day of upset, is all."

"I'm here if you need me," Liam said, "And Niall is too. He means well. I don't know what he said, exactly, but he has a bad way of putting things sometimes."

"I know," Louis smiled, "It's fine."

"And I never," Liam pressed, "You know, ever had a problem, with your sex life-- The things you do behind closed doors, is what I mean to say--"

"Louis," Harry interrupted, frowning, "What's _obiter dicta_?"

Louis laughed at the interruption, which probably saved him from a whole _lot_ of an awkward conversation. "A comment made in passing."

"Thank you," Harry nodded, and looked back at his book, "I must say. This text is rather interesting."

"Uh, thanks," Louis grinned at Liam.

Liam gave Louis a look that said  _is he even real?_   before clearing his throat, professionally so, and standing.

"Well," he raised an eyebrow, "All I can say is good luck with the clients in here."

"Oh," Louis batted his hand, "Ye of little faith."

"Trust me," Liam cast a warning glance at Harry, who had now proceeded to sniff the spine of the book, "It's said with all of the faith in the bloody world."

-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for the support so far, i love you guys! honestly, it's amazing seeing people love harry and louis as much as i do. they're my precious little babies and this fic is dumb as hell  
> [https://rhuubarb.tumblr.com/post/162639587883/cupids-defence-by-rhuubarb-length-92k]


	6. Chapter 6

vi. 

 

Harry did not believe in faith, but he did believe in love. First and foremost, he regarded it as his most interesting feature.

"Hello," he said, sunnily, as the first pair of clients wandered into Louis' office.

They were two guys, hand in hand, and they paused as they saw Harry, momentarily blinded by his godliness. But then, after a moment, their blankness faded...To be replaced with a solid, immovable sense of confusion.

"Ah-- are we in the right place?" One of them asked.

Harry looked up from his reading corner and smiled, "Louis has just gone to put a tea of cup on."

"Oh," the man said. "Okay."

"You can sit, if you want," Harry suggested, "I'm just reading up on strict liability."

They sat, awkwardly so, and for a moment Harry did not notice. But then, he saw their interlocked hands, dropped the book, and squealed in happiness.

"You're in love!" He announced, loudly.

The man on the left frowned, heavily, "What the fuck?"

"Your hands!" Harry pointed, giddy with glee, "They're holding!"

"We're married?" The man on the right said, with grand confusion, "Why is this a big thing?"

"You're _married!"_ Harry cooed, standing, hand to his heart, "Tell me about it! What did the bridesmaids wear? Did you ask for a blessing from Aphrodite? Were there doves there, or roses, or--"

Louis walked in. 

"Harry," he said, "What the fuck."

He was wearing a white t-shirt that sloped from his shoulder blades and neatly shaped his figure, which Harry thought was rather nice. His hair was messy as always, though. That day, it actually stood on end in some places on his head, flicking into random, haphazard curls as a result of his lack in sleep.

Harry did not know why Louis did not sleep; any queries into the matter had been met with a swift change in topic. Whatever the reason, he hoped Louis would resolve it soon: his health, and most certainly his hair, were undoubtedly suffering for it.

"Mr Tomlinson," one of the men spoke, evidently relieved, "We honestly don't know what's happening--"

"They're married!" Harry squealed, and walked to Louis, "Louis, they're--"

"Okay," Louis held up a hand, tea in the other, "Harry. Okay. Calm down."

"But, but--Louis-"

"Who is this?" One of the men said. 

"That's Louis," Harry pointed, "I'm Harlithet--"

"Harry," Louis spoke, pointedly, "This is Harry. He's my, uh,"

"Uh," Harry looked at him. He did not know what an 'uh' was, or if he qualified for such a title.

"New assistant!" Louis beamed, and clamped a hand on Harry's shoulder, "Yes. He's my new assistant."  
  
Harry frowned at that. The concept of human humour surpassed him, sometimes.

"Why's he frowning?" The man on the right looked at him warily. "He got a problem with gays or something?"

"No!" Louis' eyes went wide, "No! God no. He just gets-- a little excitable, sometimes."

"I love love," Harry spoke, dreamily, and Louis gently pushed him back to his corner, "And that includes love in all forms, no matter what t-"

"Who doesn't?" Louis said, laughing it off. He sat down adjacent to the two men, placing his cup on the table."Sorry about that. He's just never had much-- interaction before. Has no word to mouth filter, you know?"

"My words are never filtered," Harry called, from his little corner, "They are spoken from the heart."

"Jesus," one of the men said, "He's a Disney character."

Harry frowned at that: not understanding the reference. But, Louis cast him a glance over his shoulder that told him it was best not to engage, and so he did not. He trusted Louis to help him navigate through this strange, strange world, despite it's various oddities.Truth be told, there were downsides to this.

Firstly, he did not like the human world's many contradictions, even though they were intriguing, in their own uncanny, complex little ways. Louis had promised to help him with the trial, as a friend would, and yet Harry could not help but feel as though Louis was being overly cautious around him. One thing Harry had learned of Louis' character was that he always seemed to be on the cusp of running away, even if he was sitting still.

For example, even though Louis was sat opposite the men, talking to them about one thing or another, he was not fully comfortable. His foot kept tapping beneath the table even though they could not see it, and even though he held the power in the conversation, he still appeared infinitely nervous. His position above the desk felt poised, stern, safe, and the commotion beneath it seemed more as a discreet route from which he could dispel his nerves more than anything else. It truly was perplexing.

It arose more frequently around Harry, he had realised. Louis was more relaxed around Liam or Niall: that Harry realised instantly, but he had not had the heart to address it. After all, it was rather clear Louis loved Liam and Niall, and he really did not know Harry at all. To confront Louis' evident hesitance would to trivialise the brotherhood between Louis and his friends, and Harry would never bring himself to do that. But he could also not help noticing the way Louis never really allowed himself to laugh too much, to invest too much, to show too much emotion. He'd always stop short of the full expression, and retreat, as if he'd shared too much. Harry would never understand such a habit in practise. What good would it do to only show part of oneself?

Another thing about the human world he did not like was the fact that nobody was truly honest. It was quite clear to Harry that Liam did not like him: yet, he had not said this overtly. Instead, he had sent Harry glares everytime they shared a room, and pretty much avoided him at all times, which was acceptable, but Harry would have preferred to have Liam's dislike expressed outright. The problem was, it would never happen, because every time Harry would come close enough to Liam to start a conversation, Liam would leave the room.

On Olympia, everyone would be honest with each other. There was no room for lies or deception or time for it. The myths of old told all what would come of those who lied, and the gods had lived too long to stand for it. So, faced with the mortal world, Harry did not know what to expect. Had they not learned the myths of old? Was it not tiring to always have to hide what they did not want others to know? It was rather confusing, especially when he thought about the fact that he would never truly know what others thought of him.

Louis, for example. What did Louis truly think of him? Watching him brought only confusion.

"So if this persists, I urge you go on with the settlement," he was saying, foot still tapping beneath the table, "But until then I suggest you wait. It's always better to be sure."

Harry did not know what Louis was talking about. What he did know was that Louis' hands were very small; an artist's hands. He definitely had the fingertips for it, for they were very soft and rounded, and dainty in their making. He was using them to clasp his hands together, winding them together, and apart, together, and apart. The fact that his jumpy movements had spread to above the desk showed that his agitation had increased somewhat, which only added to Harry's curiosity. Why was Louis becoming nervous in such a manner?

"We'll take your advice, Mr Tomlinson," the man on the right nodded, "Thank you."

"You're, er, welcome," Louis nodded back, and rose to escort them out, "It's gunna be a while until we're up and doing smaller cases again. But Li and I are here if you need us, anytime."

"Thank you," the other man said, "Until next time, I suppose."

They stood, and shook hands, and it was completely nice until the couple frowned Harry's way. They had evidently realised Harry was waving at them from across the room, and left without a word, which Harry thought was rather rude.

"What did I do?" He asked, perplexed, "Were they displeased with my manner?"

Louis just sighed, shrugged, and sat down once more. 

"I dunno," he said, and broke into a slight laugh, "Maybe you didn't smile bright enough."

Harry forced his mouth into an even bigger beam, which just made Louis laugh more. While he was glad to see Louis chuckling, Harry could not fathom the source of the entertainment. So he stopped, which made Louis jolt back into serious mode (again, never showing _too much_ emotion) and meekly sip on his cup of tea.

"Louis," Harry spoke, after a while, "I do not understand."

"Hmm?" Louis turned in his chair to look at him.

"Why did you invite them here if it was not to pursue their case?" The events of the past few minutes had begun to sink in. 

"I am. We are, I mean. Liam and me."

"You did not talk with them for long."

"Well," Louis shrugged, "It wasn't to talk about something huge. People like advice, sometimes. They didn't have to meet with me, but they wanted to. It reassured them."

"About what?"

"I'm not entirely sure I'm allowed to tell you," Louis looked at him coyly, "But it involves neighbour trouble, and well, considering the fact that they can't just move out of their house of the blue, the case has pretty much got to be affecting them all the time. Which makes them wanting reassurance-- well-- understandable."

"I understand," Harry nodded, "But why the no more smaller cases?"

Louis smiled at Harry, as if he simply could not believe he was real, and scrumpled up his nose. "Well, it has something to do with a naked guy that decided to waltz into my apartment at an untimely hour one night."

"That happened?" Harry faux-gaped, which made Louis chuckle. He smiled, pleased with himself, and his advancement in the human sphere of amusement.

"Yeah. And, well," Louis took another sip of tea, and his eyes were alight with playfulness, "It turns out this guy is super important, or whatever. So I may or may not be helping him out."

"I see," Harry nodded, closing his eyes.

"And, well," Louis put down his cup, "He might just be so important that I'm putting all of the other cases aside for his."  
  
Harry's eyes shot open, and the book fell from his knee.

"You think I'm important?" He stammered, expression blank.

"Well, yeah," Louis grinned, shuffling, "Obviously."

"Obviously." Harry repeated, deadpan.

"It was a joint decision between me and Li," Louis explained, amused by Harry's confusion. "We figured that we're never going to get a case like yours again, so..."

He made a shrug-like gesture with his hands, and Harry sat there for a moment, his brain teeming with the information.  
  
"But--" He blinked, "The other cases!"

"They can wait," Louis waved a hand, "Trust me. We'd rather do yours in a pinch."

"I do not know when we will be inside a pinch," Harry repeated, "But it means a lot to me that I am-- considered important, by you."

There lay a silence, in which Louis went an unmistakable shade of red.

"For the world, you are--" he began, stuttery, "As a whole, you mean a lot to-- concepts of planet Ear-- the--Not me, I mean-- Of course, I'm a lawyer but--"

He drew in a sharp breath and forced himself to stop. Again, refusing to release any large bouts of emotion...

"What I mean to say is," Louis spoke, monitored, "It's not just about what I want. Or what Liam wants. We have to see the big picture too."  
  
"And what is that?"

"Well, your freedom," Louis said, "And your rights, essentially. I mean, you're basically love personified, right? And the world-- it needs and wants love."

"And what do you want?"

Louis froze, evidently not expecting the question, but it was not a negative response. Instead, he seemed rather caught in the moment of it, and looked away.

"I, er," he began, evidently uncomfortable, "I dunno. I've never been asked that."

"In relation to a case?" Harry blinked, endeared by Louis' odd timing of shiftiness, "Do your clients never ask of your well-being?"

"No, it's not that," Louis itched at his arm, "It's just. I don't know. They ask, but they never really-- My own feelings-- they're meant to be separate, you know? And I want you to be free. I really, really do. That's what I want. Liam? Well, Liam couldn't give less of a fuck. But-- it's not about what we want, not really. Our motives can help. But they're not everything."

Harry truly did not understand the purpose of a human court, where rules governed emotion. However, he could barely talk: Zeus's court was the same in it's distance from emotion and feeling. But the notion of personal belief meaning nothing at all-- nothing-- was something he refused to accept.

"They are," he summarised, quietly, "They mean the world."

Louis sat in shock in response to that, quietly so, his lips slightly parted and his eyebrows lifted. Harry went on back to reading, sensing Louis' stream of deep thought, and not wishing to disturb him. Still, after a couple of minutes, he could still feel Louis' gaze on him: wary, deliberating, thoughtful.

He was saved by another knock on the door, and Louis seemed more than thankful for the interlude, as if something would have left his lips otherwise. Again, not showing _too much_ emotion.

"Another client," he explained, to Harry, who looked up in a mild sense of apprehension, "I-- I better talk to them."  
  
And so the day went.

-

By the time Louis was done, the sun had began to set, and the blue-lidded sky had grown pink with anticipation. He looked at his watch and sighed. He'd been there for so many hours, talking to the clients he had been neglecting, and between appointments, reading up on case law. He was yet to find a case to use as a precedent for Harry's lawsuit, and this fact terrified him. The idea of going in blind was terrifying. He had no doubt in his and Liam's ability. They were rusty, sure. But that was nothing they couldn't handle. And, against the Lyvoninskys...and with no legal precedent to fall on as backup... He truly had no idea of what would happen.

After the first appointment, Harry had been fairly good. He was quiet, sat in the corner, reading a bundle of case law files and humming happily to himself. He intervened with Louis' doings irregularly, to ask him the meaning of a certain word, or to compliment the clients' hair or eyes. Louis didn't mind it, as for the most part, it put the clients in a better mood, and it diverted the attention from him for a while. And, after all, it was a much better scenario to that of which Liam was expecting.

So, all in all, it was a win. And after the last client of the day left the office, Louis felt rather...happy.

"That's it for today," he said, to Harry, who looked mildly surprised at the speech, "What?"

"You have not spoken to me in two hours," Harry blinked, but he did not appear annoyed. Instead, he was squinting, as the sunset fell over his eyes.

Louis stood, and pulled the blinds down to spare him. "Sorry."

"It is alright," Harry said, "I finished the last of the law books."

"Jesus," Louis eyed the tower of case law stacked up beside Harry, "And you remember it all?"  
  
"Most," Harry shrugged, gently so, "But even a God's mind falters sometimes."

"Nice to know," Louis smiled, and put on his jacket.

"Nice to know what?"  
  
"Well," Louis shrugged, "That you're more human than you think."

Harry smiled, softly so. "You feel validated by my imperfection."

"Well, to an extent, yeah," Louis snorted, "Me memory's shit."

"But you must remember things," his companion giggled, "You are a lawyer."

"I know, I know," Louis leaned against the desk, "I couldn't have chosen a worth career path, actually."

They looked at one another, and Harry continued to laugh, pink grin wide. He rubbed at his eyes, and it was only when he looked away that Louis realised he had a massive smile on his face too. It was a strange moment. Mostly, because the phrase  _your motives mean the world_ kept rotating in his head whilst they laughed. The words made him confused, but most of all, they made him dizzy. A grand comparison in regards to his feelings about Harry, actually.

"So," he tried, aiming for nonchalance.

"So?" 

Harry looked at him, perplexed. He had worn that expression a lot that day, and Louis couldn't help but feel as though he was being examined. Strangely, the notion did not make him feel uncomfortable. Instead, it filled him with an odd sense of glee.

"Do you wanna...Uh," Louis itched at his head, "Get something to eat? I mean, it's been a long day."

Harry blinked. "You know that I have no need for food."  
  
"Yes," Louis swung on his feet, "I just thought maybe that you'd like to...accompany me."

A pause.

"Never mind," Louis stood, and began to walk, "It's fine. You don't...You don't have to. It's stupid. Just-- ignore me."

"I would love to come," Harry offered, "Your company is enjoyable."

"Oh," Louis stopped, surprised, "Oh. Uh- okay."

He smiled, despite himself. It was a strange situation to be in, after all: asking a god to dinner. Not in _that_ way. It was just...A weird situation.

"After all," Harry repeated, saving him. He stood, and his eyes were of the stars. "It has been a long day."

-

"So let me get this straight," Louis asked, for the fifth time, "You've never been to McDonald's before."

"I have never felt the need to," Harry frowned, lightly, sat upright in his chair. His posture was perfect, way too perfect for a fast food restaurant, "Why? Is it...special?"

They had been sat there for a few minutes, and Harry had spent the majority of this time slurping on his milkshake. He liked milkshakes, apparently, and had met Louis' suggestion of one with great enthusiasm. In short: he had screamed. But now, he was sitting quietly whilst Louis ate. It was nice, not having to talk for a while. It was even nicer to escape the office for a while.

Louis ate a fry and shrugged. "It's nice, I mean. And everyone goes here."

"Does that make it special?" Harry tilted his head, and looked around. 

"Not necessarily," Louis said. "But it's...nice. Are you sure you don't want anything else?"

"This milkshake is adequate, thank you," Harry smiled, "It is not the best of milkshakes I have had. But it is...nice."

Louis chuckled to himself. "Ronald McDonald will cry himself to sleep tonight, you know. You've broken his heart."

"He is flat," Harry frowned, and Louis looked where he was looking: the cardboard cutout of the clown, stood facing the entrance, "I do not see where his heart would lie."

"Me neither, to be honest," Louis said, "Truth be told, he's always kinda creeped me out."

Harry craned his neck to scowl at the cutout. "Why?"

"Well, you know, he's a clown," Louis ate another fry, "And clowns are generally considered scary. It's like when something's so forcefully meant to be funny that it ends up scary."

"Like Liam telling jokes," Harry said, absentmindedly.

Louis snorted so hard he nearly brought up his lunch, and had to smother his laughter in his sleeve to keep from doing so.

"You've heard Liam's jokes?" He said, when he was able. "When did that happen?"

"Niall described one to me," Harry spoke, infected by Louis' happiness. "It was not very nice."

"They're never particularly pleasant," Louis conceded, "I'm sorry you had to experience that."

"It is alright," Harry slurped from his drink, "As well as a near impeccable sense of memory, gods also possess the ability to forget. Certain experiences or emotions we find distasteful we can block from ourselves."

"Sounds...Convenient."

Harry nodded. "We only use it for the most dire of situations, however. A god does not experience such a thing regularly."

"Damn," Louis laughed, "God knows I do. You aren't able to do it for humans, are you?"

"Why?"

"Well, I know I've got some memories of Niall that I'd like to forget," Louis chuckled, "Did I ever tell you the chicken story?"

Harry watched him suspiciously. "No...."

"So, it was in our first year of uni," Louis explained, "It was me, Li, and Niall, all stuck in this dorm. We didn't know each other. We didn't even like each other. But basically, on the...second week in? Niall decides to throw a party. He doesn't tell us or anything, we just wake up to noise. And there's a shit ton of people in the flat, and everyone's drunk off their arse, and music's playing and all that...So. Anyway. We hide in our rooms and decide to just sleep it off, you know? And we wake up in the morning and there's a fucking chicken in Liam's bed."

Harry's face split with amusement. "A chicken."

"Yeah, like, a full blown, living chicken," Louis enthused, "Sqwarking and everything. Liam shit his pants, of course. Not literally. But we had to drive two hours to the nearest farm to take it back."

His companion couldn't breathe, he was laughing so much. In-between giggles, he managed to ask _why_ there was a chicken in Liam's room: or something along those lines.

"I don't know. I don't know, honestly," Louis laughed, "Niall's still at a loss to explain it to us."

"Niall is...strange," Harry commented.

"Yeah, well. Driving to a fucking farm at 5am isn't one of my fondest memories," Louis chuckled, "But then again, it's no better than the time he decided he could fly."

Harry's eyebrow raised with shock. "Niall can _fly?_ "

"Only in his mind," Louis laughed, "Well, he was drunk off his arse, again, and he decided to leap from the top of the stairs to the bottom. God only knows how he survived it. Me and Li nearly passed out from fucking worry, you know? We drove him to the hospital and everything. But he was fine. Completely fucking fine."  
  
"Strange," Harry nodded, "The gods must have been on his side that day."  
  
"They certainly weren't on ours," Louis downed his drink, "I mean, we were worried sick, for fuck's sake. I mean, we've all done stupid things to each other that we'd all like to forget, but I think jumping down a flight of stairs trumped them all."

Harry giggled, and his shoulders shook with the movement. 

"I don't suppose you're allowed to do that, though," Louis said, wisely, "Use your powers for bad, and all."  
  
" _Bad_ is a subjective term," Harry added, "But I do not like to interfere with others' memories in such a way. It is immoral."  
  
"Even for the chicken memory?"

"Yes," Harry giggled, "Even for the chicken memory."

"Damn," Louis swung his hand, and Harry tucked a curl behind his ear.

"You are...Happy," he commented.

"Uh," Louis itched at his knuckles, "Yeah, I..I guess. It's been a good day."

"You are happy when work is done," Harry smiled, "It is nice."

"I mean," Louis sat on his hands, "Er. Yeah. It's satisfying to me, I guess."

Harry nodded. "That is acceptable. I like to see you happy."

Louis smiled at that, even if his consistent humility told him not to. "Why? I mean, you barely know me."

"I like seeing people happy," Harry shrugged, "It makes me so."

His words spurred something within Louis, and for some reason, his ever-present self control melted away:

"It's cute." 

Harry looked up at him. "What?"

Stupid Louis. Stupid, stupid stupid Louis--

"I mean," he flushed, "It's gute. Gote. _Good,_ I mean. That you-- that you encourage happiness. For people, in general. It's good."

Harry's face split in a smile, raw and astonished and real, and Louis looked away, contemplating his failures. 

"May I ask you something?"

When Louis looked back, Harry was still smiling. It was fucking dizzying. "Uh, yeah. Anything."

"What is this?" 

Louis was astonished when Harry reached over, and touched his knee beneath the table. He did not realise it had been bobbing until now; underneath Harry's touch, he halted it. Annoyance eclipsed his self-centred embarrassment and he gritted his teeth.

"Oh, it's," he said, quietly, "It's just a thing I do. Sorry."

"Don't apologise," Harry retracted the touch, "It's just that you were doing it in the office. And in the apartment, too. I wondered if the movement had any meaning with which it was associated."

"It's--I--" Louis ran his fingers through his hair, "I just get-- twitchy? Sometimes? I can't describe it. When I'm nervous, I guess. Other times, I just want to move, you know? I can't...I can't explain."

Harry nodded. "I understand."

"It's stupid."

"Louis," Harry spoke, cautiously, "It's fine."

"I hate it. "  
  
"Why do you hate it?" Harry's face sobered, "It is a part of you. It is fascinating."

Louis balled his fists on his knees. "It's not. I'm not, I mean. It's just-- ugh."

He expected Harry to look away, but when Harry didn't, he felt compelled to expand.

"Other people don't do it, and I always have," Louis spoke, "I mean, ever since I was a kid. During art class at school I got so nervous my pencil wobbled, and shit like that. For months I was behind everyone else with their handwriting, because everytime the teacher would come to assess me, I'd get nervous. It was like, I could do it at home, and my mum swore I could do it, but whenever I showed it to my teacher I shit myself. Eventually they just left me alone. I don't know. It's not serious, or anything. Not anymore. I just can't seem to keep still."

"That is not something to be ashamed of, Louis," Harry spoke, softly, "It makes you different."

"Different isn't always a good thing," Louis looked away, "I--I just thought I was getting better at it. Keeping it under control, I mean. And...Well...I'm not."

Louis looked away and finished his food, silently ashamed of what he'd shared. He was not angry that he'd shared it...It was just...He wished he had better things to share. Sometimes, it felt as though all he had to share of himself was pitiful.

"Perhaps it is not the tremor that is the problem," Harry said, after a while, "Perhaps it is the nervousness."

Louis wiped his hands. "What do you mean?"

"Well," Harry began, "If it is only present whilst you are nervous, maybe you should work on not being _as nervous_. What do you find makes you nervous?"

"I, er," Louis thought, "I dunno. I don't like talking about myself, I guess. And sometimes I just say shit...that's..."

He felt his own cheeks sting red, and wondered why he was pursuing the conversation. 

"For example, when I said you had a big dick," he stammered, "I didn't mean to say it. I just did. And it's stuff like that that freaks me out. _I'm_ the problem, you know?"

Harry's smile turned soft, and he reached over, and touched Louis' arm. 

"Louis," he said, passionately, "I do not mind them."

"Mind what?" Louis' heart started to beat faster.

"Your comments," Harry blinked, and his eyelashes were long, and soft looking, "I do not mind them."

"I'm glad," Louis grimaced, "But it's not-- just you. I mean, I say this shit to people who _do_ mind, sometimes, and it just--"

"It makes you never want to speak again," Harry versed, quiet.

"Yeah," Louis mumbled, "Yeah. How did you know that?"

"Gods have experienced embarrassment too," Harry chuckled, and retracted his touch, "It does not occur often. But that fact makes it even more painful when it does."

"How come?"

"Well," Harry sighed, "The elder gods have overcome such barriers in speech. They don't...Say things that would be interpreted otherwise."

Louis grimaced. "What did you say, Harry?"

Harry bit his lip. "At Hera's annual ball, I mistook her for my mother."  
  
"No way," Louis gaped, "I mean, she's like, a big goddess, right?"  
  
Harry hid his face in his hands, and yes, admittedly, it was cute.

"They look the same from the baaaack," he whined, "She was stood not facing me, and I tapped her on the shoulder. Such a movement is ludicrous in god society, without permission, or familiar bond and I...I touched her as if she were my own kin."

"I mean," Louis frowned, "She isn't?

Harry looked out from beneath his hands. "Through marriage, she is my step-grandmother."

"Ohh."

"Such a connection is not strong enough for non-consensual greetings such as that one," Harry sighed, "It was...exceedingly embarrassing, Louis."

"Couldn't you just," Louis laughed, nervously, "I dunno. Magic it away?"

"The memory?" Harry smiled, sadly, "Unfortunately, Hera and Zeus are too powerful for us to wipe them from ourselves, in any way. I am afraid it will sit with me for all time."

"Jesus," Louis commented, "Harry, I'm sorry. That-- sucks."

"It does," Harry nodded, "But you should know that you are not alone in your fears, Louis Tomlinson."

Louis nodded in return. "I-- thank you."

"I shall help you combat yours," Harry promised, and slurped the last of his milkshake.

"I-- what?"

"I shall help you combat your embarrassment," Harry offered, "That is, if you wish me to."

"Harry-- you don't have to do that," Louis said, eyes wide, "Honestly. It's my battle."

"Sheila's is mine," Harry spoke, sadly so, "And yet you are helping me fight mine."  
  
"That's-- different," Louis stood, and began clearing away their meal, "I mean, I have to. It's the right thing to do."

"You are important, Louis," Harry blinked, "And your feelings are too."

"I mean," Louis chuckled, "You're a god. You're, you know, way up above me in terms of priority."  
  
Harry stood, and gaped.

"Louis," he said, truly stunned, "You mean the world, as do all humans. Your feelings are in no way worth less than mine."

"But-- you can fly."

"I would shed my wings for you," Harry offered, "Anytime you wished."  
  
"Please--" Louis laughed, nervously so, "Don't. Do that."

Harry stood tall. "I will if you do not accept your worth."

"Harry--"  
  
"I will!" Harry began reaching towards his back, "I swear on Zeus that I will."

"Okay!" Louis blurted, "Okay. Fine. You can help me, or whatever."

Harry raised an eyebrow, and Louis held his hands up in defeat.

"I'm serious. Just don't-- don't shed. Don't shed anything. Okay?"

Harry beamed, satisfied with Louis' response, and lowered his hands. "Okay."

Louis looked at him, weirdly so, and they began to leave the restaurant. "I feel like I should let you know that others have tried, and failed, to fix my tremor problem. I'm pretty sure it's unfixable."

"Those who tried," Harry's hair tousled in the wind as they walked, "Were they gods?"

"Er," Louis thought back, "No?"

"Well," Harry smiled in satisfaction. "There you go, then."

-

"Louis," Harry asked, "What is this place? And why are we here?"

In the early evening the closest library was near to empty, which was just how Louis liked it. He led a very bewildered Harry through rows upon rows of books, not stopping once, until he reached the law section.

"It's a library," he explained, crouching, "It's just a place for a shit ton of books."

"This is more than excrement amounts," Harry mused, running his fingertips along the spines, "But why are we here? You said that I could help you with your problem."

"You will," Louis promised, "I just got an idea for the law case first."

He began filtering through a massive law book on the floor, fingers moving fast, legs parted. Harry watched him for a few moments, slowly blinking, before joining him on the carpet.

"I would like to help," he said, watching Louis search.

"No, no, it's fine, Harry," Louis shook his head, "I'm fine searching on my own. I'm not even entirely sure of what I'm looking for, to be honest."

"Then how do you know what you're looking for?" Harry asked.

"I, uh," Louis flicked a page, "I dunno. Just call it a feeling."

Harry leaned backward until he was laying flat on the floor, curls splayed onto the carpet.

"This place is big," he said, "Are there usually no people?"

"It's one of the lesser popular ones in London, for sure," Louis said, "But, I mean, we just got it at a good time, I suppose."

"Athena must be on our side," Harry mused. And then, he jumped up, in a burst of passion, and began to walk, "I am going to find a book to read."  
  
"Youuu do that," Louis said, and he paused, "Oh! Wait!"

He began to read the page in front of him. When it came, Harry's response was echoed, and very far away: "What is it?"

"I found it-!" Louis began, and stood, "Wait. Harry. Where are you?"

"I am in the library," Harry called.

"No, but," Louis began to walk, "Where?"

Holding the book in his hands, he walked, passing the adult's section, the teen's section, and the non fiction section. After calling Harry's name a fourth time, and walking past the aisles again, Louis began to bubble with frustration.

"Harry!" He called, walking past the adult's section. His phone buzzed: a text.

**cold**

_what_

_harry what_

He began walking once more.

**warm**

**warmer**

**no cold**

**cold**

**you are getting colder**

_harry_

**do you see what it is im doing**

**i am playing the hot and cold game**

**niall played it with me while you were at work**

**but instead he hid my hat**

_your bra you mean_

**it was not fun**

**cold**

**cold**

**very cold**

**you are a fridge**

**you are a fridge louis**

_harry for fucks sake_

**i am closer than you think**

_harry ive got something that can help us in your case_

**louis :(**

_harry :(_

_believe me you dont wanna play this game with me_

_i will win_

**how will you win? you do not know where i am**

**mu ha h a ha ha ha h    a**

**i will accept your surrender in writing**

**or in a love song if that is the medium of which you prefer**

**i am not partial**

Louis rolled his eyes, and hit the call button.

There came a loud wail, and then a clattering, from two aisles ahead. It was from the kid's section, which did not surprise Louis in the slightest, and Harry was stood there with a shocked look on his face, staring at the phone.

"Louis!" He gasped, "It started singing!"

Louis snorted and picked up the phone, to which Harry gasped further.

"It's _Call Me Maybe_ ," Louis said, and then started laughing, at the song choice and Harry's face both, "It's a ringtone. You can set it to something different, if you want."  
  
"But...why...did it..." Harry seemed completely at a loss.

"I called you," Louis explained, "When I do, your phone will make noise to let you know. Like Carly Rae Jepsen, for example."

Harry slowly reached out and took the phone back, eyes filled with wonder. He held it to his ear, and beamed.

"It is lovely," He said, in awe, "I am a fan of the ringtone."

Louis smiled. "I never took you for a Jepsen fan."

_but here's my number_

_so call me maybe_

"Where can I find more?" Harry looked at the phone, "Is there a button for more?"

"It's called the internet," Louis said, "But before we get into that, can I tell you about my thing?"

"Of course," Harry nodded, and he moved to stand beside Louis, suddenly focused, "Speak of it."

"So, I'm not entirely sure if this makes sense, but I need to hear it out loud, and you need to know what's going on with the case, so...Here we go," Louis drew in breath, "You know how yesterday I was on about corporate mergers?"

Harry nodded. "The mixing of two companies."

"Ah, yeah," Louis pointed at the page, "Well, I couldn't find anything related to it that could help us, but. It says here that for companies to merge there has to be a series of reasons why stated within the paperwork. So if Sheila and Tim merged the businesses because they were deeply in love, then yeah, they might have an argument going. But if they did it solely for money purposes..."

"Then it is their fault," Harry blinked, and looked down.

"Exactly, yeah," Louis nodded, "I mean, they'd have no ground to stand on as to regards to the money split, because you have had no contact with them since that one meeting, and they merged companies years later, you know?"

"I think...I think I understand."

"Listen," Louis patted his arm, "I know you don't like being mean to people, and all. But-- this is big, if we can use it to our advantage. If they can admit in court that they merged the businesses because they were in love and shit, and then we can find proof that they merged for other reasons, then it could be so big."

"Bigger than this library?" Harry asked.

"Well," Louis bit his lip, "Maybe so. But this is huge for the case. You've gotta be happy about that."

"I..." Harry paused, "I will never be happy at a decision that will cause suffering for someone else. But, as it is to help me return to Olympia, I am in full support of it."

"Great," Louis grinned, and held the book to his chest, "Well, let's draft it to Liam."

-

"That is the worst idea I've ever heard," Liam said, deadpan.

"What?" Niall frowned, "I think it's fucking brilliant."

The wrinkles on Liam's brow became a mountain range of lines, "Breaking into Lyvoninsky _headquarters,_ Niall?"

"Not breaking," Niall held up a finger, " _Infiltrating_."

"You have got to be kidding me," Liam sighed, "Now, listen. Louis' idea? That was a good idea. Yours? Not so much."

Louis rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "But what do we do if they don't answer our calls, Li? I mean, why would her own company help us?"

"I don't know," Liam said, "But we have GOT to do this through the official channels. If we start messing up shit behind the scenes, and not listening to the guidelines, well-- we're fucked."

"I mean," Louis hesitated, "That's a fair point."

"Fair?" Liam walked to him, "Just fair?"

"Well," Louis looked between them, "You've got to admit Niall's idea has merit too."

"You're fucking with me," Liam put his hands on his face.

"I'm serious, Li!" Louis protested, "I mean, they are definitely not going to answer our calls about this! If we ask them on the spot on trial, they'll just lie! We need solid evidence."

"Which is why," Niall did a snake motion with his arms, "I suggested I sneak in and get the files for ya. I mean, that way, it's undetected, unaffiliated, and pretty fuckin' cool."

"It's also stupid as fuck," Liam blinked, "What if you get caught?"

"Well, I go to prison, which is also pretty fuckin' cool."

"No!" Liam squealed, "Niall, for the last time, prison is not co--"

"I think we need to consider both options," Louis spoke, and when Liam gave him a death glare- "No, not like that. I mean, we need to accept that both options have merits. Liam, you want to do it diplomatically, which is what I think we should do. But Niall's approach tells us not to expect miracles. This is a massive lawsuit we could be dealing with, you know?"

"Not could," Liam glared, " _Are._ And we need to do it the right way otherwise we're going to lose our footing!"

"Okay, okay," Niall raised his hands in the air, face red, "Forget I said anything. Let's do it the boring old Payno way."

"It is _not_ boring," Liam defended, before sighing, neatly so, and pointing to his list, "I suggest we attempt to contact them through the legal channels, and if they don't reply, then we bring that silence up as supporting evidence in court."

"Which still means we have to get main evidence," Louis said.

"Well...Yes."

Louis groaned loudly into his hands.

"It's going to be a process," Liam looked at him, apologetically so: brown eyes deep with tire, "But for now I think we all need some sleep."

"Amen to that," Niall huffed, and patted the both of them on the back, "You know, if you ever wanna complete a heist, I'll always be here to--"

 _"No,_ Niall." Liam and Louis said, in unison, and Niall chuckled.

"Just like old times," he said, and kissed them both on the cheek, "I'll see you tomorrow at the cesspit, okay? Whoops, I meant the office. With nobody wiping their feet on the mat it's hard to differentiate. See ya!"

They watched him leave, and Liam let out a massive sigh.

"Do you ever wonder why we employ him?" He asked, and Louis just laughed.

"I should probably go check on Harry," he said, quietly, "I left him alone with my iPod, ABBA, and a pair of headphones."

"Jesus," Liam commented, "You never let anyone near that thing."

"So?" Louis raised an eyebrow.

"So," Liam spoke, "I just wondered why he's qualified and I'm not."

"Well, firstly," Louis grinned, "He signed the pact that means he's bound to never talk about my music tastes with anyone else, ever. Secondly, he signed a clause which meant that he would never slander said music tastes, both of which that are rules you and Niall both forgot during our uni years."

Liam grinned. "You mean that time we--"

"The time you found it and leaked my entire playlist online?" Louis rolled his eyes, "Yes, it's pretty hard to forget."

"That was funny," Liam nodded, "The fact that you had Single Ladies on there eight times--"

"Goodnight Liam!" Louis chirped, and held the door open super wide for him.

"Goodnight, Louis," Liam said, but before he left, he stopped, "You know, you seem a lot better than yesterday."

"Hmm?"  
  
"Happier," Liam spoke, "Like you're yourself again."

"Well, you know how it is," Louis chuckled, awkwardly, "A few hours of work never hurt nobody."

"I'm serious," Liam patted him on the shoulder, "I'm glad to see you smile again, even if it's over dumb shit Hethesarus said."

"Harlithethius," Louis rolled his eyes, "It's really not that hard to say."

"It's really not that hard to admit you're happy, for once," Liam smiled, "Embrace it."

"What, like you do?" Louis called, as Liam walked on down the hallway.

"I am consistently happy," Liam replied, "I just save my facial muscles the strain of displaying it."  
  
Louis laughed and shut the door, to which he asked: "Why did I end up with such strange friends?"

"My mother used to say that your companions reflect the things you wish to be," a voice said, and Louis turned: of course it was Harry.

But it was Harry wearing ten pairs of sunglasses, all balanced precariously upon his nose.

"Jesus Christ, Harry," Louis said, "I mean, why?"

"I am the Dancing Queen," Harry spoke, taking a step forwards.

"I don't doubt you are," Louis blinked.

"Young and sweet," Harry took another step forwards, wriggling his hips.

"Only seventeen, by any chance?" Louis laughed, and was very surprised when Harry took him by the hands.

"Teach me to dance," he instructed, stare intense.

Holding Harry's hands-- felt weird. Okay, so maybe he was not overtly holding his  _hands_. But there was definitely something going on in Louis' stomach at the time at the touch, and a flare in Harry's eyes said that he felt it too. But, even then, his hands were incredibly soft. Like his wings, but somehow...Better. More real. More warm. More like pressed silk than anything else.

Considering all of this, it took a little while for Harry's speech to truly reach his ears.

"I-- what?"

"Teach me to dance," Harry emphasised, dropping Louis' hands, "I wish to be the Dancing Queen, but I know not _how_."

"Uh," Louis blinked, "I mean, I'm not the best at dancing."

Disappointment and remorse flooded Harry's face. "Have you never danced?"

"No! No, it's not that," Louis bit his lip, "It's just that, I just... _Don't._ Sorry."

He would not say it, but he had only ever hoped to dance with one boy in his entire life, and that boy was Colin. Such dreams had burnt long ago, but he still felt the sweet sting of them on the tip of his tongue, saw what he'd imagine as a teenager, Colin's arms wrapped around his back...

Not even realising it, he had stepped away, and began to fumble with his hands. Harry watched the movement and sighed.

"I am sorry for making you nervous," he said, deeply remorseful.

"I'm not," Louis closed his eyes. "I'm fine."

"I will ask someone else to teach me to dance," Harry stepped away also.

"Harry-" Louis sighed, "I'm sorry. It's just-- I can't explain it."

He could not explain many things. He could not explain how Harry had been making him feel overly anxious recently. He could not explain why it felt _different_ to be around him. He could not explain his inability to talk about anything normal with him, or the intense, overbearing urge he felt to open up to Harry at every opportunity he had. He could not explain how it felt to have to repress the truth, every time.

He could not explain, so he inhaled, and hoped, futilely, that silence would do.

"It is quite alright. Maybe the plaque will teach me how!" Harry smiled. He obviously did not read the situation as Louis did, because he reached for the television remote, pressed the on button, and--

Well.

The first thing he saw was a news report.

Shock filtered through Louis as he saw the title: LYVONINSKY SPEAKS OUT, and he automatically moved forward, as if he could protect Harry from it. But Harry was standing too close. And Sheila's words, loud and clear, rung out throughout the apartment:  
  
"I received hurtful words from TOMMO & PAYNE a few days ago, and let me say this: before, I was more than willing to be civil! I was more than willing to give them time to work out their case! But now, I have had enough, and it is with this in mind that I am pulling the first court date to earlier than expected. My rivals could have easily made this, and kept this, professional! But on their heads be it, I say! On their heads--"

Harry turned to Louis, slowly, and his expression was clouded with the fresh, raw cut of betrayal.

"You?" He began, "You talked to Sheila?"

Louis closed his eyes, inhaled, and took a step forwards, "It wasn't like that."

"Why did-- why did you talk to her?" Harry frowned. "I-- I don't understand."

His ruffled shirt touched the moonlight, and Louis had an unmistakable urge to reach out and touch it. It looked so soft against his neck, so delicate and raw... but besides the point.

"She offered us money," Louis explained, "Li, and I."

"-M-money? When was--" Harry removed his sunglasses, stunned, "When was this?"

"Days ago, Harry," Louis took a step forwards, "We didn't accept it, but things got ugly."

"Wh-- what do you mean?"

"I--" Louis looked away, "I insulted her. She insulted you first, I mean, and it was just-- It wasn't very professional of me, but I can't stand people being judged unfairly and I--"  
  
Harry's expression twisted, and tears, big and wide and glittery, began falling down his face.

"--I yelled at her. I'm sorry, but I did. And now we-- now we all have to pay the price. But-- but it's okay. It's okay, right? We're going to be fine."

"I will never return to Olympia," he said, softly, and his shoulders drooped, "It will never be so, and that is not fine."

"Harry, you can't say that."

"The court date is being moved!" Harry frowned, "You were cruel to her! None of this is what I want! You met with her days ago and you did not tell me! And now you say it is you that will pay the price, but it is me! Only me!"

"Harry--"  
  
"No," Harry took a few steps away, "My name is not Harry. I am not yours. And-- and I am not a human you can deceive, like all of the rest."

"Don't be stupid," Louis frowned, "I didn't deceive you."

"No," Harry spoke, softly, "You did not. But you doomed me. And to me, that is all the same."

-

Louis did not see Harry for the next few days.

He refused to talk to anyone, and just sat in the corner of the study, playing the harp. Nobody could tell Louis where he got the harp from, but everytime they tried to ask him to stop playing it, he would only tug at the strings harder. So, in the end, they just left him alone.

"Is this all just about that meeting with Sheila?" Liam asked, at work, "Because no offence, Louis, but he's our client. We need him talking to us."

"Don't you think I've tried?" Louis sighed, "He just keeps playing the fucking harp. And he thinks I've deeply betrayed him, for some reason or the other."

"Well," Liam shrugged, "Don't say I didn't warn you."

"Oh, shut up," Louis closed a file, "How was I supposed to know that gods were so-- strict on this shit? You could've easily told him too."

"Yeah, but I don't like him," Liam looked at Louis, blankly so, "And he doesn't seem to have this strange crush that he seems to have on you, on _me_."

"It's not a crush," Louis blinked, heavily annoyed, "It's friendship."

"Yeah, right," Liam rolled his eyes, "You keep telling him that."

"I don't know what's wrong," Louis admitted, "It's just, one day we were okay, and everything was going fine, and then--"

He paused, for there was a text on his phone, loud and unavoidable and bright. It was from Niall, and said four words:

**come quick.**

**Lyvoninsky's here.**

**-**

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> harry is the best worst assistant you'll ever have.  
> [https://rhuubarb.tumblr.com/post/162639587883/cupids-defence-by-rhuubarb-length-92k]


	7. Chapter 7

 vii.

 

Louis ran.

He ran as though his life depended on it. All he could think about was the prospect of Sheila, real and painful and terrifying, in the same room as Harry. In the same  _space_ as him. What if she convinced him to give up the trial? What if she pressured him into admitting his guilt on camera? What if they'd already left by the time he got there? What if they'd taken Harry away? What if-- what if they ruined everything?

He'd never jabbed at a lift button more angrily in his life. How dare she-- How dare _they_ \-- do this? Why couldn't they just get a hint? Why couldn't they just do this normally? What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck--

There were bodyguards watching him as he raced into the apartment, heart throbbing, and slammed the door behind him. He saw Tim Lyvoninsky sat on the sofa, a cup of water in his hands, and he saw Niall, staring, eyes wide. When Louis entered, they both turned to look at him.

"Get out of my apartment," Louis spat, and Tim raised an eyebrow.

"It's so nice to see you."  
  
"Leave," Louis pressed, "Just-- just leave."

"I am here to talk to your client," Tim spoke, "On behalf of my wife."

"Your ex-wife, don't you mean?" Niall chirped, and Tim sent him a dark look.

What the _fuck_ did he want with Harry? Louis' heart thundered.

"He's not here. Get out."

"There are sparkles on the floor," Tim indicated, politely so, "It is the same sparkles we saw on the day we met."

"So what?" Niall shrugged, "I've fuckin' told you. We had a party last night. There was confetti."  
  
"He isn't fooling anyone," Tim laughed, lifelessly, and looked at Louis, "Is he?"  
  
"Get," Louis couldn't breathe, "Out."

"Lou, I've tried," Niall said, compassionately, "He won't fuckin' leave."

"I'm calling the police." Louis spoke, and reached for his phone. Tim tutted: a little shake of the head.

"Mr Tomlinson," he spoke, as if he was being completely reasonable, "There's no need to complicate things." 

"Watch me," Louis picked up his phone.

"There's nothing you can do to stop me," Tim mused, "You know that."  
  
"Aside from report your ass," Louis' hand clenched.

"Ah, yes, like you did last time," Tim grinned, "It was a rather good read, I must admit. Of course, I deleted it, but that's neither here nor there..."  
  
"How did--" Niall looked between them both, "How did he find out about the report?"

"I have friends in high places," Tim clarified, "As does my wife."

"So what?" Louis clenched his jaw, "That makes it okay to break the fucking law?"

"Why not?" The man smiled, "What are you going to do, Mr Tomlinson? _Report_ me?"

The patronising hung in the air, and Louis closed his eyes. It took all of his strength not to punch the fucker right in the nose, but then he remembered Liam's words, and tried to calm himself...

"Now," Tim crossed his legs, "If it's not too much trouble, I'm going to have a little chat with your client."

Louis didn't even hesitate. "No."

"Oh, don't be like that," Tim sighed, "It's simply to...Iron a few things out, is all. We'll need some information for the prosecution, obviously, and.."

"Then wait for the official meeting," Louis' jaw was tight, "With your fucking prosecution lawyer."

"We thought it prudent to give you one last chance to redeem yourselves," Tim sighed, "One last chance to turn around. Because you seem like good men. And you're making a mistake, you know."

"Is that so?"

"There's no way you can win," Tim spoke, and Louis caught a glimpse of a pink wing from the doorway of his bedroom, "You must know that. Your chances are more than minute."

"Do you know who the last person who said that to me was?" Louis crossed his arms, "Simon Cowell. Right before Li and I kicked his company in the dick."

Tim picked at Louis' sofa, "I think you'll find that we are not the same as Mr Cowell, in many ways. Mr Cowell is  _nothing_ compared to us. We can do much more, _find out_ much more, about you--"

He looked around, at Louis' apartment, at his view, at his feet. 

"--And your silly little lives."

"Get over yourself," Louis' chest heaved. "If you're trying to intimidate me, it's not working."

"You? Who says I was trying to intimidate you?" Tim stood, and although he was not a scary man, in that moment he appeared, admittedly, formidable. "We both know for a fact that there is a very scared young man somewhere in this building. And we also know that if I speak to him, this case will be all but over. How many words do you reckon it'll take?"

Realisation shot up Louis' stomach, as he remembered Harry's naivety, and how he'd trusted Louis so deeply after knowing him an hour. How, despite all of his adorable little quirks, he'd do anything to help humanity. Or get back home.

"Six?" Tim seemed amused at Louis' expression, "Seven?" 

Louis took a step closer, "You're not going to do shit. Get out."

Tim raised his hands in the air. "Don't say I didn't warn you."  
  
"Get," Louis watched him, "The fuck out."  
  
He saw that flash of a wing again in the doorway, and begged to all of the gods above that Harry didn't come out of the bedroom. He'd clearly heard it all, though, and that scared Louis more than he'd like to admit.

"This could've been so easy," Tim mused, and they met eyes, "You could've just handed him over to us. Dropped the case. Accepted the money. But, instead, you're going to ruin your career, and waste time the justice system can't afford to lose."

"You're the one suing," Louis raised an eyebrow, "And, no offence, mate, but I think I'll take my chances."

"We are not _'mates'_ ," Tim spoke, and he walked past him, "But, as I see you're being quite stubborn, we'll just have to come back another day."

"Don't bother," Louis glared. "There's nothing here for you."

"Is that so."

There was a short silence, in which Tim looked at Louis, and seemed to look him over. His hand was clenched on the door, and Niall looked as though he was about to stress-vomit.

"The Lyvoninskys don't lose, Louis," Tim said, antagonistically quiet, "Think about that."

Then, he was gone. Niall let out a high pitched groan and slapped his hands onto his face.

"Lou," He breathed, "I'm so sorry. I just opened the door 'cos I thought it was you, and that motherfucker rushed in, with his bodyguards, all complainin' and creepy and looking around the place, and shit, like. I didn't know what to do. It's my fault."

"It's not," Louis looked down, "I--I antagonised them, Ni. I made this worse. I don't know if they'd even have been here if I hadn't-- you know."  
  
"But they're doing it on purpose!" Niall protested, blue eyes wide, "Winding us up! Messing us around!"

"I know," Louis said, bitterly, "I know."

"God..." Niall paced, and ran his hands through the blonde of his hair. "I can't believe this."

Louis leaned on the wall and shut his eyes. "They deleted the fucking law report, Ni. They know where I fucking _live_."

"This is-- this is fucking--" Niall panted, "We've got to get Liam. Liam-- Liam will know--"

Louis shook his head, "Liam tried. _I_ tried, for fuck's sake. I went through the official process- and they deleted the report. There's probably no evidence left of anything now."

"They can't do that!" Niall stood his ground, "I mean-- it's fuckin'-- it's illegal!"

"I know."

"Not to mention-- immoral as fuck," Niall protested, "I mean, what the fuck are they gunna do? Keep turning up until we give in? Keep pestering us for fuck knows what--I mean, when does this stop?"

"I don't know," Louis said, "But we need a good case. We need-- we need to get this over with. As soon as possible. Because we can't-- we can't let them get any closer to Harry. We just can't."

"But they know where we live," Niall blinked, "They know everything."

_Everything._

The truth of it sat between them, chillingly so. Louis closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and wondered why rich people were so annoyingly insufferable.

"All we can do is beat them, Ni," He said, eventually.  "I mean, if we call the police there's no doubt they can wriggle their way out of it. If we make another report, they'll just delete it. If we attack them-- God knows. The media will have a field day either way. They're probably _still_ going to have one now."

"So all we can do is beat them. Legally, " Niall repeated, "Jesus, I hope he didn't see Harry."

"Why?" Louis nearly broke his neck at the speed of which he looked up. "Did you?"  
  
Niall shook his head. "I haven't really seen him all day. It went so fast."

"Okay. Call Liam," Louis began to walk, "I-- I need to make sure he's okay."

"What?" Niall's face wrinkled as Louis moved from view, "Why would Liam not be okay?"

"Not Li," Louis rolled his eyes, _"Harry."_

He approached his bedroom door, and knocked on it: once, twice, thrice. Harry must've closed it shut at some point during Louis' conversation with Tim, but there was no sound coming from behind it. Panic spiked within Louis for no rational reason at all.

"Harry?" He asked, and knocked again. There came no answer.

_Fuck._

"Harry? Hey," He repeated, "You there?"

He opened the door, and for a moment, he saw nothing. Then, in the space between Louis' bed and the wall, he spotted Harry: cuddled up with his knees to his chest. His eyes were very red and wide, and his wings hid him in a cocoon formation.

"Louis," he said, quietly, and that was all he had to say.

Louis came in a crouch in front of him, concern raging inside of him, a hand voluntarily reaching for Harry's knee. Harry had been crying: there were dried tears of glitter on his face, down his chest, and on the floor. Where Louis touched him, he began to shiver.

"Louis," he whispered, again, and then he started to cry, "Louis--"

He choked up, and Louis fought every urge inside of him to just wrap Harry up in his arms. There simply wasn't enough space for it, even if Louis could get over his stupid self-hesitance and guilt.

"It's okay," Louis promised, "Harry, it's okay."

"It's not okay," Harry cried, "It's really, really, really not."

"They're not going to hurt you," Louis blinked, and squeezed Harry's knee as a promise, "They won't. We won't let them."

"They- they came into the apartment," Harry wheezed, "Him-- and his people. And they were looking for me. I could feel their thoughts. They were angry. They wanted--"  
  
He hiccuped, loudly, and a droplet of glitter fell to Louis' hand. 

"They wanted to make me pay, Louis," Harry whispered, "They wanted to do bad things, cruel things. Why-- why do they hate me so much? Why did-- Why did I make them fall in love? I-- I caused this, and now they want to hurt me, and--I'm so-- _angry._ "

"I know," Louis promised, "I know."

"Why-- why do humans do things like this? I don't... I don't understand," Glitter fell from Harry's eyes, "Why can't they just-- get along? Why can't they spread--l-love, not-- this? Why do they hate each other so much?"

"Because they're not like you," Louis said, and he sat down, "They're not kind, or forgiving, or smart, or generous. Nine times out of ten, they're only looking out for themselves. And they can't admit they're wrong. Ever."

Louis looked down and inhaled a sharp breath.

"We're not going to let them hurt you," he spoke, definite, "I don't give a fuck about what he says. I don't care about how much money he has. He...He put a client in distress today, and that's not...It's not fine. It's not fine at all. And he will pay for it."

Harry looked away, his lips trembling. "I don't know what's wrong with me, Louis. I'm-- I'm feeling things. I keep feeling-- such hatred, such anger, and I-- I don't know what to do. I've never felt these things before. I've never wanted to-- hurt someone else, before. And I see him and I get so angry that I just--"

"Harry," Louis spoke, and that's when he caved: that precise moment, when Harry began to violently sob. He reached in, and grabbed his shoulders, and just-- held him. He didn't care if it hurt. He didn't care if it was too cramped down there. He just knew Harry needed to be held.

Harry felt solid against him. Real. The tears he was shedding were real, just as the heave of his shoulders were too. In his arms he grew lighter, slightly, and Louis realised that his wings had folded back into his clothes, and then that Harry's hands were curled up against Louis' chest, balled in his frustration. He sobbed in the crook of Louis' neck, and Louis knew there and then that he had to win the case for him.

He just knew.

"I've never felt like this before," Harry whispered, hoarsely, "I've never yelled at someone. I-- I didn't mean to yell at you. I just-- I miss home and I hate some of these people. I've never hated before, but now I do."

"Hey," Louis rubbed his back, "It's okay. On Earth-- everyone gets like this sometimes."

"They do?" Harry sniffled, and then, his nose nuzzled against Louis' collarbone.

He knew it wasn't on purpose, but it made him feel a certain way. A certain...weird way, that sent fireworks down his spine, and did something funny to his head. It was something he had not felt in a long time, not since--

"Y-yeah," Louis said, and he shuffled back. "I get it all the time. Frustrated, I mean. Especially when I meet people like that. Rude, and patronising, and think they're bloody immortal, you know? When, in reality, they're just the same as everyone else. They get under my skin."

Harry nodded, increasingly bold. "He is cruel and not worth your time."

"Hey, that's the spirit," Louis nudged him, "Say it to yourself."

"He is...cruel and not worth my time," Harry settled, and broke out into a smile.

Louis grew infected by it. "See? Whenever you see those pieces of shits on tv, or in real life, now, you can just say that."

"To their faces?" Harry grew troubled.

"Nah, not if you don't want to," Louis didn't want them anywhere near Harry, if he could help it, "Just, you know, in your head. So you don't get affected by what they say."

Harry blushed, sheepish, and tucked his head between his shoulders, "I am affected by what everyone says."

"But you're trying," Louis blinked, "It's the best anyone can do, really."

The words hit him hard, and for a second Louis looked down, at his own hands. They were not shaking, but they had been in his argument with Tim. They had been when he knocked on Harry's door. He wondered if anyone had noticed.

"It felt...strange," Harry spoke, and he was looking at Louis' hands too, "Being in the same room as him. After all this time."

"Must've felt weird," Louis admitted, "I mean, it was weird to me, and I didn't even talk to him last time."

"I guess I never realised," Harry played with his own fingers. "How much they h-hated me. After everything."

"People are strange," Louis looked at him. "I'm sorry, though."

Harry rubbed his eyes. "I'm sorry you had to meet with him."

Louis shrugged. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you I _met_ them. Before, I mean."

"It is okay," Harry smiled, just a little, and his face was so red, "I am sorry I played the harp so much."

"It was a little annoying," Louis conceded.

He chuckled, though, and leaned against the bottom of the bed. They sat there for a moment, Harry wiping his eyes, and Louis deeply sighing.

"Well," he spoke, after the day's events had sunken in, "Fuck."

Harry peered at him, curiously so. At that moment his nose could have doubled for a Christmas display. "Things are messed up."

"Yeah. They are." Louis sighed, "It's just...The fucking Lyvoninskys. They keep fucking us over, you know? I mean, first the creepy visit, and then the trial date being brought forward, and then the second creepy visit, and now our general lack of evidence-- It's just shit."

"Shit as in bad," Harry spoke, and it felt weird to hear him swear.

"Yeah," Louis laughed, because that summarised it all. "Shit as in bad."

It was Harry's turn to clasp his knee: he must have interpreted it as a sign of comfort. 

"Things are shit," he said, wisely, "But they will be okay."

Louis looked at him, and for the first time that day, smiled. "I know."

-

Harry was calmer after talking with Louis, but he still missed home. He missed it gazing from the windows, he missed it playing the harp, he missed it wandering through the apartment's corridors each morning. But he missed it most in the evening.

The evening was when his mother would meet with him, and they would plant roses together, upon fields of gold. He is not sure it would have strictly have been called 'planting', as their fingertips did not touch the ground, and the flowers sprung from seeds at pure thought alone, but it was something that they always did together. His mother had a dream.

"One day, all of the gardens of Olympia will hold flowers such as these," she had told him, the first time they had did it.

"But why?" He had been small, then, holding her hand everywhere, only beginning to decipher the strange land on which they lived.

She had simply waved her hand, causing more to appear. "Because it will mean we have changed something. Even if it is a small thing, it will have changed. Even if the rest of the world has moved on, this patch of land will still be lush and alive."

He'd tugged on her leg, and she had picked him up; her golden light shining into his eyes.

"It is all that matters in the world," she murmured, "Change, and love."

He missed her so much that he could not describe it. When he had been banished, she had been the last person he'd seen: her eyes, wistful and longing, as he'd fallen through the clouds. He could tell she longed to change things, to save him: but they both knew that Zeus' word was final.

"Harry, what do you think?" Louis asked, and Harry was drawn from his daydream.

He had been sitting beside the window, watching the clouds redden. As he looked up, he noticed that Liam, Niall and Louis were in the room, still talking from when Harry had began to daydream. The latter of the three was looking at him, expectantly so, and Harry met his eye.

"What do I think about what?"

"About you being interviewed," Louis said, patiently, "By Lyvoninsky's prosecution lawyer. Liam reckons they're not going to stop until they get a quote from you one way or another, so we thought this might dim the tension a little."

Harry shifted, uncomfortable. "It will not be them."  
  
"No," Louis spoke, softly, "It won't. It'll just be someone representing them. It'll be okay."

Harry paused, soothed by Louis' promise, but agitated nonetheless. He could not describe it, but the idea of speaking to the Lyvoninskys filled him with a sense of immovable anxiety. It was why he could not face Tim, earlier, and had stayed in Louis' bedroom, paralysed with shock. It was why he did not think of the night he met them often. Sometimes, the guilt and the anger was too much to handle.

"As long as I am not alone," He mused, looking up, "Then it will be good."  
  
"Cool," Liam breathed, relieved, "Okay. I'll schedule it."

He patted Louis on the back and walked to the door. Niall did the same, but before he left, he approached Harry with a sense of urgency.

"Don't worry," he promised, hand on Harry's arm, "We'll beat those bastards."

"Not physically, I hope," Harry laughed, nervously, and Niall pressed his knuckles to Harry's.

Harry frowned in confusion. "That was not a punch, was it?"

"Nah," Niall shook his head and grinned, "It's a fist pump. See?"

He did it again, and Harry grinned back, unable to help it. Humans were so-- strange. "But what does it mean?"

"It means, you know, you're cool. Humans do it when they like someone," Niall said.

"Like as in a friend?" Harry blinked.

"Like as in anything, really," Niall shrugged, "I wouldn't really advise it as a flirting technique, though."

Harry giggled at that, and fist pumped Niall back. Humans may have been strange, but at least their movements were-- amusing. The same thing could not have been said of the gods.

"Nialllll," Liam called, from the door. He had a rather stern face on, but then again, he always seemed to, "Do you want a lift or not?"

"Yeah. I'm coming," Niall said, and smiled at Harry one last time, "I'll see you around, bud."

Harry waved him goodbye, and when he was gone, fist-pumped himself in delight. "Louis!"

Louis, in the meantime, had disappeared off to the kitchen. When he did not reply, Harry decided to get up and find him there, immersed in the fridge, his stance engrossed. 

"Louis," Harry said, quietly, and Louis turned to him.

"Huh?" 

His hair was wild, and he was wearing a big, floppy jumper that hid his hands. It was a good look on him, although it really did make no sense. Why would anyone cover that which they were attempting to use?

"I have discovered how to fist pump," he said, pleased, "Today has been a good day."

Louis laughed at that, and held out his fist. Harry could not see it, however, so he reached over, and tugged his sleeve up to his wrist, to which an endeared expression filled Louis' face. Then, Harry pressed their knuckles together.

"Fist bump," he grinned, and Louis patted his hand. Harry had never been more grateful for Niall.

Louis turned back to the fridge and continued his search.

"What are you looking for?"

"Uh, beer," he said, and his voice was echoed, "Or any kind of alcohol. I need it."

"You need intoxication, liver damage and depressive after-effects?" 

"Hey. It's been a rough day," Louis shrugged, "Here we go."

He pulled out a big carton of cans, and grinned in delight. Harry frowned in confusion.

"I hope you do not consume them all," he said, concerned, "That would be bad for you."

Louis cackled at that before taking the cans to the sofa, and sitting down. Conflicted, Harry lingered by the doorway, his eyes on Louis' hands as they tugged at the lip of the can. Louis seemed to notice Harry's confusion, because he looked up, and giggled.

"Your face," he said, and tilted his head, "You can come over, you know."

"I am not sure I like alcohol," Harry spoke, sitting opposite. He watched as Louis began to chug from one, "The gods do not speak highly of it's principles."

"If you drink responsibly, it's fine," Louis wiped his mouth, "I mean, sometimes, it even tastes good."

Harry looked at the cans, still unsure. Louis watched him with eyes that spoke of only mischief.

"Okay," he said, sitting on the carpet, "Let's play a game."

"What sort of game?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Truth or dare," Louis grinned.

Harry felt strange interacting with this side of Louis. He was used to him being a lot more-- responsible. And stressed. Yet, with a sip of alcohol he had turned into a bashful, playful man. Was this what he was like underneath it all? Harry was finding it quite hard to understand.

Then again, his mother always said he was way too curious for his own good. 

"Okay," Harry spoke, cautious, "Tell me what is truth or dare."

"So," Louis took another sip, "We take turns doing shit. Like, asking each other a question or telling us to do a dare. And we have to do it or answer, no matter what it is."

"Sounds dangerous," Harry narrowed his eyes, "What if the dare is unreasonable?"

"Then, you won't do it," Louis blinked, "Simple."

"Okay," Harry spoke, and crossed his legs, "I will give it a try."  
  
"That's the spirit," Louis winked, "I mean, I never play this stupid teenager party shit. But I just-- I need to have fun, you know? Otherwise I'll be crappy all week, and...Well, yeah."

"I understand."

"Cool," Louis shuffled forwards, "Truth or dare."

"Uh..." Harry blinked.

"You say what you want to do," Louis' eyes were alight with a smile, "A truth or a dare, I mean."

Harry nodded. "Truth."

"What is the thing you hate most about Earth?" Louis grinned, "Be honest."

"I am. _Always_ ," Harry retorted, offended by the remark. But then, he sat there, and thought. "I do not like the nature of humans that are mean."

"Good answer," Louis winked, "Okay, now you ask me."

"I ask you-- truth or dare," Harry shuffled. He was beginning to get the hang of it.

"Dare."

"Uh," Harry looked around, completely lost, "I...I dare you to stand on the coffee table."

Louis raised an eyebrow. "Is that it?"

Harry's cheeks went red. But then, Louis placed his beer down, and clambered on up. He looked so much taller there, it was strange to see. He grinned at Harry from his improved height, before jumping down, and going back into a sitting position.

"Truth or dare," Louis took anther sip.

"Uh," Harry wished to follow Louis' lead: growing in excitement, "Dare!"

"I dare you to have some beer," Louis grinned, "If you want."

Harry _did_ want. Despite his scepticism, he was curious about this substance, and it's miraculous effect on Louis' mood. He reached out, and took a can, tugging at the lip as Louis did.

"How much do I drink?"

"As much as you want to," Louis shrugged, "I mean, don't go ham unless you don't want to."

Harry did not understand what ham had to do with the situation, but nonetheless, he grinned and tipped his chin up. The drink felt weird as it tumbled down his throat, and it tasted like nothing else he'd ever had. He kept going until the can felt empty, and when he turned it upside down, it was.

"Oh," he said, and looked at Louis.

Louis' eyes were wide, and he was gaping, "Are... You okay?"

Harry yapped his lips parted and shut, "The taste is strange. But I am fine."

"That was your first time drinking?"

"Yes," Harry blinked.

"Whoa," Louis cackled, and realised he shouldn't have laughed, "I mean, you don't feel weird, or anything? This is strong-ass beer."

"I feel normal, despite the strong of the ass," Harry frowned, "How much does it take to make you feel weird?"

"I mean," Louis shrugged, "Probably a can. But that's me, I dunno. Gods might have super tolerance, or something."

"I see," Harry took another can, wondering how much his super tolerance would hold before he became as Louis did. "Truth or dare."

"Uh, truth," Louis had finished his first can, and seemed to almost follow Harry's lead.

Harry thought about his question for a long time before he voiced it. In a way, it had been in his head ever since they had met.

"Have you ever been in love?"

-

Louis was more tipsy than he'd like to admit. His fatigue had a lot to do with it, but the way Harry was looking at him...Hell. It made Louis wish that he wasn't a god, for some reason or the other, or that he wasn't a client. Because Louis was feeling a strange kind of way towards him then. And he couldn't really explain why.

He was stunned by the question that tumbled from Harry's lips, and was at a loss for what to say. They were playing truth or dare; he couldn't exactly skip the question. But, still...

"You already asked me that," he said, instead, and took another sip, "In the shopping centre."  
  
"You did not answer," Harry blinked, gracefully, and fuck-- his eyelashes were long. Fucking fuck fuck fuck.

"Uh," Louis paused, "Okay, I need to be way more drunk for this."

Harry sat upright, "The consummation of more cans?"

"Oh, fuck the cans," Louis stood, and went to the fridge. He came back with a bottle of vodka, "We're going straight to this baby."

"Why is the bottle so large?"

Louis snorted. "I have no idea."

Green eyes narrowed. "It looks like water."  
  
"Oh, trust me," Louis laughed, "It's not."

He poured them both a shot, and splashed a little lemonade in there, just for fun. Harry watched this process with wide eyes: he had evidently never been this close to an alcoholic meltdown before. Well, if that was what he was looking for-- he was in fucking luck.

"Here," Louis said, and handed him his shot.

"The glass is small," Harry frowned, "This cannot be effective."

"It's meant to stop you from-- I dunno, dying," Louis laughed, "Okay. On three."

Harry gripped his shot and nodded.

"One, two, three," Louis said, and then they tipped their glasses, and Harry's face melted into disgust.

"That is repulsive!" He said, astounded.

Louis laughed and wiped his mouth, "It's vodka, Harry."

Harry held his shot glass to the air in disgust. "How can something so small be so-- painful?"

"I've been asking myself that for years." Louis poured himself another shot, downed it, and grimaced. "Okay. I felt that one."

"I wish to feel it too," Harry spoke, and took the bottle.

He poured himself a very full shot and downed it as Louis had. His response was a squint, a gasp, and then, a set of very wide eyes.

"I feel...slightly strange," he admitted, after a few seconds of rapid blinking, "My tongue is burning."  
  
"You okay?"

"Yes," Harry's face twisted into something of a grin, "Somehow...It was pleasurable."

Louis giggled and leaned against the sofa. "Okay...So."

"Your truth," Harry nodded, wiping his tongue on his hand.

"My truth," Louis sighed, "So...Yeah. I did fall in love once."

Harry leaned in, intrigued, as if nothing mattered aside from that moment. Louis exhaled: he didn't know why he was telling him this, exactly: or even beginning to. All his life he'd been scared of telling anyone how pathetic he truly was, or having them find out in some way. But here he was, tipsy and tired, about to spill his guts to the nicest god he'd ever met. The _only_ god he'd ever met.

No, he amended. An _angel._

"It didn't go well," he sighed, again, and shut his eyes, "They rejected me."

"I'm so sorry," Harry frowned, and he held onto Louis' wrist.

"It's fine," Louis batted, "It's my own fault. I did it shit. I went over the top, and it's just...I dunno. It is what it is."

"You deserve love," Harry promised, voice deep, and intense, "You do. You really, really do. And I will help you find it."

Louis snorted, "Don't."

"Why?" Harry's face was soft, his eyes were soft, his nose was soft. Louis wanted to reach out to all three.

"I just," he rubbed his face, "I dunno. Maybe I'm not made for it. I can never hold anything together."

"It should not all be up to you," Harry spoke, and he meant it: Louis could tell, "Can I tell you something?"

"Yeah," Louis laughed, "Is this still part of the truth or dare?"

"Yes," Harry shuffled a little closer, "I-- Niall told me about you having a crush on someone."

Louis' stomach flared. _What?_ Was Niall a fucking mindreader? Could he see into a drunken Louis' mind? Because if so, it was a talent he must have acquired about ten minutes ago, because Louis is pretty sure he only started having fantasies about Harry's lips after he watched him down that beer...

"A--a crush? For eight years?" Harry looked away, guilt trodden, "I don't know if it's the same person you-- fell in love with. But he told me and I-- I feel bad for keeping it from you."

"It's fine," Louis took another swig of beer, "And yeah. It was the same person. I don't really talk about it."

Harry looked very upset with himself, as if he was feeling Louis' grief _through_ him, or something. But another part of him looked confused, as if he was on the cusp of realising something; but he could not yet put it together.

Louis sighed, "It's not a big deal."

If anything, he was more relieved that Harry couldn't read his mind then. Because, Jesus, he was starting to feel some kind of a way. And wishing he'd stayed with an one-night stand instead of staring at those lips--

" _Eight years_ is," Harry interjected Louis' thoughts. "I am sorry."

"It's okay," Louis spoke, and laughed, "Hey. It wasn't your fault, anyway."

"I feel somehow responsible," Harry admitted, "I cannot put my finger on it."

"Well, anyway," Louis reached for another can, "Let's get back to the game."

"Okay," Harry smiled, "Truth or dare."

"Dare," Louis said, "C'mon, make it exciting. I want to be happy again."

Harry's eyes filled with a sense of excitement, and mischief, of which Louis had never seen.

"I dare you to drink another shot," he spoke, beaming.

"Noowww you're talking," Louis laughed, and poured them one each, "Okay, so whilst we do this. Tell me another thing you hate about humans."  
  
"You like to ask that question," Harry mused.

"Well, yeah," Louis shrugged, "I like to know what your general impression of us is."

"Does it matter to you?" Harry frowned, but it was a kind frown, as if he had never anticipated someone caring in that way.

"Well, yeah," Louis leaned against the sofa, "It does. I just-- I like the way you talk."  
  
He did not know why he said that. But it was true: and for the way Harry's face flushed, it was certainly worth it.

Wait, fuck. Was Louis _flirting?_

He didn't mean to be. He really, really didn't mean to be. His mouth was betraying him. Fucking alcohol.

"I do not like the way humans complicate things," he said, plainly, "You do things that are not necessary."

"Like threatening people in their apartments," Louis said, sunnily.

"Yes!" Harry's face lit up, "Exactly that."

"I mean," Louis snorted, "Who even does that?"

"Ironing is another thing I do not understand," Harry played with Louis' sleeve, "Clothes will crease no matter what you do. Ironing them flat is only tempting fate."

Louis cackled, and poked him. "Maybe we like our clothes flat."

"Maybe," Harry poked him back, amused, "Or maybe humans are highly irrational, and doomed to die out as a species."

"True," Louis laughed, uncontrollably, and held onto Harry's finger, "We're fucked."

Harry glanced his way, and his eyes were a swimming pool of green. "Truth or dare."

"Uh," Louis thought, "Truth."  
  
"Why do you sleep with others?" Harry blinked, slowly so. The late night light filtered through his eyelashes, "As you do, I mean?"

"The one night stand shit?"  
  
Harry nodded.

"Well," Louis thought, looking ahead, "I dunno. It makes me feel loved for a few minutes without all of the shit of a relationship."

"The bad parts," Harry shuffled.

"Well, yeah," Louis looked at him, "You know, the fighting, and the whole thing of being chained to one person. If you sleep around, you're free to leave when you like."

"But you are not loved," Harry said, sadly, "Not by them. You do not get to make them breakfast or take them on dates. You do not get to buy them flowers or to dances."

"Maybe that's for the best," Louis grinned, lazily so. "I'm a shit dancer."  
  
He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, Harry was frowning. 

"What?"

"You do not think you'll...love again?" Harry asked, softly.

"Well, I dunno," Louis shrugged, "I just...I don't think I'm made for it."

"Or maybe the right person has not come along."

Louis blinked, slowly. He did not think that was the case, but he nodded along anyway.

"Regardless," Harry said, "You should know it is always there for you if you need it. Love, I mean."

Louis paused: the statement shocking him, but in a good way, like the words settled unexpectedly, and warmly, around his stomach. He smiled.

"Thanks," he squeezed Harry's finger, "And, you know, my dancing lessons are always here if you need them. No matter how shit they are."

"I would like to be the Dancing Queen," Harry grinned, "Young and sweet."

"Only...A thousand millennia old," Louis said, and they both laughed, "Truth or dare."

Harry cocked his head. "Dare."

Louis couldn't describe it. The sun had just set, and the dark had caught up with the room: flaring it red, and pink, and all of the shades inbetween. These shades all seemed to gather and bloom on Harry's face, like a masterpiece, or the best kind of flower. For a moment, he was the only man in the world.

Louis' breath hitched. "Kiss me," he said.

He did not know why he did it. There were reasons, of course, like the fact that the simmering, fading light was dancing perfectly across Harry's cheekbone, or that his eyelashes glinted gold, or that he was the most gorgeous man that walked the face of the planet. It was also, at least fifty percent, alcohol, and at least twenty percent due to the shitty day they'd both had.

But mostly, Louis just _wanted_ him. He wanted like he had never done before. And he was really, truly, at a loss of words for it.

He was about to apologise, and maybe go in for another beer, but then, Harry leaned in, and all of Louis' functioning thought burned away. All he knew, painfully so, was the outline of Harry's face, his hand clenching onto his sleeve, and all consequence thrown to the wind.

Harry kissed him.

It was strange, at first. That being the first second of it, of course. Because Louis hadn't ever kissed anyone, not like this. Not...Slowly. And Harry definitely seemed to be shaping it that way: his bottom lip smooth and gentle, his nose pressed against Louis'. And then, he moved. He moved so slowly, and so slightly, his face tilting to the side, his lips slowly opening against Louis...And...it was heaven.

Louis wasn't even going to lie about it. It was fucking _heaven._

He started kissing back after a few seconds, because as much as he liked sitting there, being kissed, he wanted to help. He wanted to milk it, and so he did: sitting up slightly to reply to Harry's touch, moving in relation to him. His stomach was on fire with the feeling of it, the core of it, the reality. And he's not sure what else he expected from a love god. 

When he began to reach for Harry's hair he figured it was probably a good time to pull away, because he was getting a whole  _different_ set of feelings, and whoa. It was going to take him enough time to recover from kissing alone. But he couldn't pull away. Everytime he was about to, Harry would do something amazing, like bite at his bottom lip, and Louis fall into ecstasy.

It was Harry who pulled away, thank God. Because otherwise, Louis wasn't sure if he was ever going to stop. For a moment, they just sat there, moments away from each other, breathing heavily, one hand still in Harry's hair. And then, Louis closed his eyes, leaned against Harry's cheek and said--

"Okay."

He pulled away and reached for another beer. Harry giggled at him.

"That was--" Louis blinked, "Okay."

"Satisfactory?" Harry almost looked nervous.

"Yes," Louis shook his head in awe, "Fuck, yes. I-- I think I fucking came from that."

Harry's eyes went wide. "You...Really?"

"No," Louis laughed, nervously so, "No. I didn't. But holy shit. Where did you learn to--"

"Kiss like that?" Harry shrugged, lips red, "I don't know. I just-- did."

Louis took a sip of beer to steady himself, but in all honesty, all he wanted to do was kiss him again. "So there's nobody on Olympia that you..."

"No," Harry said, and then frowned, "No!"

"Why?" Louis laughed at Harry's expression.

"Because, they're family!"

"But Zeus fucks his family all the time."

"Yes, but..." Harry flushed, "He goes by a different set of rules than we do. And theoretically, I am the youngest god in Olympia, so..."  
  
"They watched you grow up."

"Yes," Harry leaned back against the sofa, cheeks warm, "It would be strange for me to...Pursue a relationship, in that way."

"So what are you meant to do, then?" Louis looked at him, "Never screw anyone?"

Harry's mouth twisted at the vulgarity, and then, he just laughed. "I suppose my mother will set me up with someone at some point."

"Like a human." Louis blinked, deadpan.

"Relations with humans are frowned upon, unless you're an older god," Harry sighed, "But perhaps a newer god will arise. Sometimes, humans are made gods, and that allows for our roster to increase."

"But unless that happens...You're gunna have to marry your brother."

Harry made a face. "Preferably not. But who knows."

Louis nodded, glassily, still dazed from the kiss. Because of this, it took him a few moments to realise that Harry was staring at his hands. They were shaking.

"Sorry," he mumbled, the energy zapped from him.

Harry took his hands, and held them, "You are nervous."

"Well, yea," Louis snorted, "I just got kissed the shit out of by an incredibly attractive love god, so..."

Harry giggled, "You find me attractive."

"Isn't that the point?" Louis shrugged, uncomfortable, "All people finding you attractive, or something?"  
  
"Well," Harry bit his lip, "Theoretically. But thank you."

Louis smiled, lazily so, and closed his eyes. His hands were still trembling in Harry's grip, but he cared a lot less than he did a few moments ago. Instead, he just felt...Safe.

"This was a good night," he said, quietly, and he felt Harry nod.

"You are tired," Harry spoke, "And drunk."

"You're not, though," Louis opened one eye.

"I do not think I can get so," Harry sounded sad, "But, I grew close, once, and I will hold it forever in my heart."

"Eyy," Louis laughed, softly, "That's the spirit."

He began to fall asleep, the memories of the day still spinning in the air. He would probably regret all of them tomorrow, but at that moment...He simply didn't fucking care.

The last thing he remembered was Harry squeezing his hands, and saying "Goodnight, Louis,"....and then everything went all dark.

-

"You didn't," a voice said, and Louis squinted, "Please tell me you didn't."

"What?" Louis groaned: the world was too loud. Above him, a figure-- Niall--drifted into view. 

"Tell me you didn't sleep with Harry," he pressed, and fucking hell- he was way too close.

"What?"

"Louis...Tell me."

"I didn't sleep with Harry? What the fuck?" He sat up, and a world of sound hit him at once. God, he was hungover...And everything hurt.

"Are you sure?" Niall was sat on the bed beside him, "I mean, there's cans everywhere, and you're out cold...Did you fuck someone here?"

"No," Louis said, and it was the truth.

"So you didn't fuck Harry."

"No!" Louis hissed, and held his head.  _I only snogged the fucking shit out of him._

"So what did the two of you do?" Niall threw his hands in the air, "He let me in all humming and happy and shit, and then I ask him where you are, and he says you're hungover, and then I step in the living room and there's cans everywhere, and--"  
  
"We just drank," Louis's head was throbbing, "That's all."

"Okay," Niall said, slowly, "Okay. I mean, that's still not the best, but..."

He handed Louis a glass of water, and Louis gulped it down, more than grateful. Splinters of the night before were coming back to him...Oh God, did they play truth or dare? Fuck's sake, what did Louis tell him?

"He doesn't get drunk, Ni," Louis shook his head, "It was okay."

"Still," Niall sighed, "He's a client."

"I know."

"You shouldn't get drunk around a client."  
  
"I know," Louis sighed, "But I usually don't live with clients, either."  
  
"True."

"And they usually don't sprout wings..." Louis rubbed at his eyes.  _Or kiss like kissing is a fucking art._

"Also true," Niall patted his back. "Hey, I'm sorry for being a Liam. I'm just-- worried, is all."

"Worried?" Louis squinted, and despite his pain, grinned, "Why?"

"Well, Liam couldn't find any new stuff for the case last night. I mean, he found some shit, but it's minor, nothing really going to change the tide in this case, you know? And, well, Harry's interview is tomorrow."

"Shit," Louis rubbed their eyes, "That means the first hearing is next week."

"Well..." Niall grimaced, "Yeah."

"Did he contact their reps yet? Ask them for the conditions on which the companies merged?"

"No answer," Niall sighed, "And that's why I'm worried. I think we should really consider the other option, you know?"

Louis froze. And then, he looked up. "Oh, God."

Infiltrating the Lyvoninsky building. Finding the answers themselves.

"I don't know if we're going to get it otherwise," Niall looked pitiful, "I mean, I'm more than willing to go in, but--"

"No," Louis raised a finger, "I'll go."

"Louis," Niall protested--

"I know the right questions to ask," Louis swayed, "And you don't."

"One, you're hungover. Two, the people there kind of know what you look like?" Niall scowled.  
  
"Yeah, and Tim knows what you look like, now, so..." Louis shook his head, "I'll go. It'll be fine. I'll..put on a disguise, or something."  
  
Niall sighed, and closed his eyes. "We are so eternally fucked."

-

Harry walked into the bedroom to find that Niall was wrestling a strange white thing onto Louis' head. Harry paused in the doorway, wondering the purpose of such a thing. It could not have been a hat: it was too stringy, and wispy, to be so. And it could not have been a helmet of any kind.

"What is happening?" He asked, amused nonetheless.

Louis looked up at him with a grunt: his eyes saying _help me._

"We're disguising Louis," Niall grinned, and he was having the time of his life, "Making him look...Different, and shit."

"How?" Harry came to sit beside Niall on the bed.

"Well, this is a wig," Niall pointed, "We figure that if he's blonde, people won't recognise him."

Harry squinted at Louis' face, and hummed. "He should have a wig on his face."

Louis scowled. "Hey!"

"No," Harry amended his words, smiling, "I mean, here."  
  
He touched the space just under Louis' nose, and Louis giggled.

"A moustache," he said, and Harry nodded.

"Yes," Harry spoke, "Is that what it is called?"  
  
"When it's just there, yeah," Niall nodded, "But, as you can see, Louis a bit of stubble going on at the moment, so--"

"Remove it," Harry spoke, decisively.

The both of them looked at him.

"What," Niall gaped.

"Remove, the...stubble," Harry smiled, "I do not have it so."

"He's got a fair point," Louis said, but Niall looked at the both of them, betrayed.

"But, Louis-- Your beard! It's beautiful! It was going to be-- beautiful!"

"Get a grip, Ni," Louis stood, and retrieved something from his bedside drawers. "It grows back."

Niall sighed as Louis went to the bathroom, and patted Harry's knee in grief. "I was living vicariously through that beard, you know."

"You wish to have one?" Harry tilted his head.

"Well, yeah," Niall grumbled, "Not everyone is as blessed as Louis is, you know."

Harry smiled. "You should make prayer to Maia. She is the goddess of growth and increase."

"Maia," Niall repeated, and grinned, "Hey. You reckon she'll give me a beard?"

"I  _reckon_ she will come quite close," Harry smiled, and craned his neck. "She is rather powerful. What is Louis doing?"

"Shaving, I suppose," Niall grumbled, "I'm telling you, you better be paying him a shit ton for this case."

Harry stood. He had not before thought of the case, and what he was going to 'pay' Louis for it. The idea of his contact with them all actually _ending_ felt rather...Foreign. Nevertheless, he followed Louis into the bathroom, and watched.

Louis was running something along his jaw, and watching himself in the mirror. His every movement was slight, as if he was really concentrating, and every time his hand lifted, a strip of his beard had disappeared. Harry became endeared with the movement. It reminded him of their kiss, last night.

Harry knew it meant nothing, and he knew that humans did many things to other humans of a nature they did not really mean. But it was a nice memory to think about, if nothing else. And, despite his self-depreciation, Louis was a very good kisser.

"Fuck," Louis cursed, and he held onto his face.

Harry stepped forward, instantly concerned. "Louis?"

"It's fine, I just--" Louis lifted his hand to show a little cut on his face, "Slipped."

"Here," Harry spoke, and he placed his hand on Louis' cheek.

Soon, a golden glow emerged, and he was healed: but Louis had a strange look on his face, like he did not know whether to kiss Harry or to scream. It was because of this that Harry removed his hand. He would not like to create tension where tension was not needed, even if he would have preferred the former of responses.

"Thanks," Louis said, and he sighed.

It did not take Harry long to realise the reason for his slipping: his hand was shaking. Slowly, gently, he took Louis' hand in his, and held it tight. 

"Still," he muttered, into it. He felt Louis' pulse quicken, but his hand stopped shaking, eyes wide.

"You--I--" He breathed, "Thanks."  
  
"You are welcome," Harry blinked, and stepped away.

Louis tried once more to shave, and this time, it went a little better. Still, it was a few minutes until he had reached a standard at which he liked his face. He stood there for a few minutes, feeling it, and then washed a strange sort of foam from his face. In Harry's mind, it did not differ much from clouds.

"So," Louis tried, turning around, "What do you think?"  
  
Harry reached out to remove a bit of foam from his cheek, and Louis drew in a deep breath. What he had not realised before now that if he wanted, he could kiss Louis right now. He could feel the same feelings that he had last night, upon his lips. He could hear the same tiny mumbles and moans Louis had made, last night, but again.

The thought was tempting, and, by the way Louis' eyes widened, Harry knew he was thinking the same thing.

This world was strange. Never before had Harry considered snogging a human once, let alone  _twice._ Yet, here he was. The day Harry understood the mortal world, and the mortal people, and mortal feelings, would be the day he died.

"It...is soft," he conceded, and he removed his touch.

Louis laughed, nervously so, "Your hands are warm."

"Or, your face is just cold," Harry defended. But there was no heat in it.

"Alright, let me see the damage," Niall walked in, and when he did, he seemed pleasantly surprised, "Okay, so from a distance you look different. But it's the eyes. Don't you think, Harry?"

Harry looked at Louis, and tilted his head. Yes. He would know Louis' eyes anywhere: the brightest of blues. A soft, delicate lid. And eyelashes that rivalled his own. In all honesty, Harry did not know why he was the face of what humanity deemed to be attractive. Because it really should have been Louis.

Just Louis.

"They should be concealed," he advised, softly.

Louis rolled his eyes, and Niall disappeared for a second, and returned with his glasses. "Here."  
  
"Do you not need them?" Harry asked, helpfully, "To see?"

"Nah, they're just reading ones," Niall shrugged, and Louis put them on, "And look at him! They suit him much better anyway!"

"Do not sell yourself short, Niall," Harry smiled, but he was right: they suited Louis like he was made for them.

"I hate them," Louis squinted, and looked at himself in the mirror, "I look like a pensioner."

"You look amazingly  _not you_ ," Niall squeezed his shoulder, "Which is, if I remember correctly, the fuckin' point."

Wait...Harry had missed something. He _knew_ it.

"The point?" Harry frowned, confused. "What point?"

"Oh," Louis said, and sighed, "I'm going to Lyvoninsky HQ."

"What?" Harry stepped back. "Why?"

"Well, we need some information for a case, and..." Louis took off the glasses, "I'm sorry, H. We're not going to get it otherwise."

"I...I understand," Harry spoke, but he was truly at a loss for words, "I will come."

"No, no no no-" Niall put a finger in the air, but Louis just looked...saddened.

"You don't have to, Harry," He sighed, "It's okay."

"I wish to."

"I'm fine on my own."

"And it is stupid to go alone," Harry pointed out, "What if someone catches you? You will need an Abba."

"An alibi."

"Yes," Harry nodded, "That. And I do not want you to be alone."

They both looked at Niall, who backed away. "Whoa, whoa. No way."  
  
"Then, I shall go," Harry stood tall, "We will be other people."

"I mean," Louis hesitated, "It's not the worst of ideas..."  
  
"We don't even have a disguise for you, H!" Niall enthused, hands on his hips. "I mean, how the fuck do you expect they won't notice you?"

"I can change my appearance at will, remember?" Harry smiled, and patted Niall on the head. He really was silly, sometimes. 

There was silence, in which Harry turned to the mirror, and just-- morphed. He was not sure how he did it, even then. But he did so, and when he had finished, both Louis and Niall looked at him in shock.

"You look like--" Niall breathed, eyes wide--

"You look fucking  _hot_ ," Louis said, and when Niall cast a dark look at him, he amended, "I mean, you look like a younger George Clooney."

"If a younger George Clooney and Chris Pine had a lovechild," Niall said, softly, "Look. The hair's blonde."

"But the nose is a George Clooney nose," Louis argued, "And the chin's definitely Brad Pitt."  
  
"How the fuck do you know what Brad Pitt's chin looks like?" Niall scowled.

"Did you not have a Brad Pitt phase?" Louis laughed.

"I did not," Harry offered, and his voice was a lot lower than he expected it to be.

"Whoa," Louis said, "Okay, so they're definitely not going to recognise you from that."

"The fuck they're not," Niall took a step back, "I think you're actually giving me an erection here."

"What we're saying is," Louis explained, over Niall's flustering, "You might want to turn the attractiveness down a bit."

Harry sighed, turned to the mirror, and gave himself a moustache.

"Better," Niall said, sighing.

"Definitely better," Louis smiled. And that, it seemed, was that.

-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one kudos = one fist fight with the lvonvnvovovvninskys  
> [https://rhuubarb.tumblr.com/post/162639587883/cupids-defence-by-rhuubarb-length-92k]


	8. Chapter 8

 

viii.

 

Of all the good ideas Louis had ever had, agreeing to break into Lyvoninsky HQ was not one of them.

Admittedly, kissing Harry was also on the list. Because between the anxiety of this doomed trip and his stinging face, Harry's lips were all he could fucking think about.

He hoped Harry could feel it too, if only to just...Not be alone in feeling it. To not feel as though his brain was fucking with him, again. To tell himself that it was perfectly normal to want to kiss someone twice in twenty-four hours. To say that it was just a _phase_ that made him fantasise about Harry's jaw for the entire journey. Or imagine what would be like to bite his lip.

Harry had to snap him out of it. Because otherwise, they were toast.

"Louis," Harry spoke, and it was weird seeing him speak in another body: in another tone, "You are dreaming of the day."

"Daydreaming," Louis blinked, rapidly, "I-- Yeah."

Harry frowned. "You should not do that whilst driving."  
  
Louis pulled the car to a stop in the car park, and rested his head against the wheel. "I shouldn't. You're-- completely right."

An expression of surprise hit Harry's face, as if he had not expected the criticism to land. "Are you alright, Louis?"

"I just--" Louis blinked, rapidly, "This is weird."

"It is?"

_It's weird because I want to kiss you, all of a sudden. Constantly. And it's even weirder because I've never wanted to kiss you before. And fucking hell, you took me to paradise last night, and I can't help but wonder what it would be like to feel that again..._

"You--" Louis looked away, "Having a weird face. A different one, I mean."

 _Yeah, right._ His hands began to tremble.

"It's just a weird situation to be in," he conceded. And fuck, he wasn't lying. Going into the headquarters of the people who were suing them...Was ludicrous, not to mention wrong, and unsafe, and unreal...

"I am here with you," Harry said, and it was his real voice again, "Do not forget that."

His voice was so solemn Louis had to take a breath, or two, just to let them sink in. Then, he nodded.

"Okay," he said, and Harry reached over, and squeezed one of his shaking hands.

"Louis," he spoke, solidly. "It will be okay."

"It-- yeah," Louis drew in a sharp breath, "Yeah. So, we...We, uh..."

He struggled to find the thought he was chasing, for a moment. Harry holding his hand had a _lot_ to do with that. It was reminding him, painfully, of Harry's hand on his knee the night before, squeezing it as they kissed...

Louis looked up, and Harry was still looking at him, patiently so. The eye contact shocked him into proceeding.

"We need to think of names."

"Bart." Harry said, instantly.

"...Bart?" Louis blinked, "You want to be called _Bart?"_

Shock hit Harry's expression. "Is it...Not a good name?"

"No," Louis laughed, "I just...I don't see where it came from."  
  
"On the television in the living room," Harry explained, blinking, "There is a programme that comes on when the sun begins to set. It is about people with square, pointed heads, and one of them is called Bart."

It took Louis a moment to get it.

"The Simpsons," he said, deadpan.

"Yes!" Harry clapped, and giggled, "Those! It is a strange programme, even though I do not understand where the sons come from. Do they belong to the Simp? It is quite confusing."

"Well, last names don't always make sense sometimes," Louis shrugged, "For instance, I'm Tomlinson. Who am I? Am I the son of Tomlin?"

Harry itched his chin. "A prudent point."

"Anyway," Louis said, "You're Bart, now. And as you don't really have a last name anyway, you can be...Bart...."

He looked around for inspiration, and saw a discarded tabloid magazine on the floor of his car. One of the headlines read in bold: **Catch David Beckham's Top 10 Styles Here!** , and, before Louis knew it, a lightbulb had rung.

"Styles," he said, "You're Bart Styles."

"Styles," Harry repeated, blinking, "As in, more than one style?"

"Yeah," Louis reached to retrieve the magazine, and smiled, "See?"

"He is a man of attractive image," Harry remarked, "I shall try my best to bear his name."

Something peaked in Louis. Was it...Jealousy?

"Well, not _his_ name exactly," he took the magazine back, blushing a little, "I mean, _Bart Beckham_ would sound a little weird, and so would Bart David, or Bart Top, or Bart Ten--"

"You can be David," Harry spoke, excitedly, "You can be David Top."  
  
"Harry--" Louis blinked, "No."

"Harry yes," Harry grinned. "No-- wait. It is _Bart_ yes now. We must not forget."

He reached for a pen and wrote on the back of his hand: _David + Bart._ Louis would have argued with it-- any of it-- but instead, he figured he needed to save his energy for the ordeal ahead, and undid his seatbelt.

"Okay, so," he spoke, as they exited the car, and Harry followed him, "You follow my lead, and let me do the talking."

"I _like_ talking," Harry frowned, "But I understand."

"Cheers," Louis grinned at him, and moved his fringe, "Let me know if the wig flies off, won't you?"

"I do not see wings there," Harry said, and then-- "Louis, wait."

"Don't you mean David?"

"David," Harry caught up with him, "Your phone."

Louis reached out to take it, and looked down at himself. "I hate Niall."

"What?" Harry gasped, "Why?"

"There's no fucking--" Louis felt around, "There's no fucking pockets!"

"I will take care of it," Harry promised, and placed it in the back of his jeans.

"Harry--" Louis winced. Somehow, the prospect of Harry with his phone wasn't-- the best.

"Trust me," Harry smiled, "It shall be fine. I am more than capable."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!" Harry seemed fully geared up to argue-- "I _am_ su--"

He halted, suddenly, in shock. Louis looked up, wondering why, and there the answer was: Lyvoninsky HQ.

It was a tall, shining tower of death, as far as Louis was concerned. Shaped in a triangle formation and coloured grey; the walls were glass, the doors were glass, and the stairs were glass, creating a fragile, delicate-like appearance that gave Louis a strange sense of anxiety. From the outside, crowds of people could be seen, walking to and fro and in and out, wrapped up in their daily routines. It was a world away from Louis and Liam's tiny office on the other side of the river, that's for sure.

"Jesus," Louis breathed, "That's scary."

"It is indeed," Harry whispered, their previous conversation forgotten.

For a moment, they just stood there, looking up: eyes to the sky. And then, Harry smiled Louis' way, although he, too, appeared infinitely nervous, and took his hand.

"All will be well," he said, "I believe that."

"Fuck it," Louis said, "Let's do this."

He sent Harry one last glance, pushed on the door, and then, they were inside.

-

Harry did not like the building they were in. It felt too...Made. Constructed. Precise. 

From the moment they stepped inside, they were surrounded by chaos. People were flooding the space from the doors to the desk, carrying suitcases, folders, files of all sorts. There were people in lab coats to people in bright red suits here, and Harry wondered if he should have came in one too. Louis gripped his arm and lead him through the crowd, but he needn't have worried. Despite his new visage, everyone soon stopped and stared at Harry's face.

"They're staring," Louis hissed, "Why are they staring?"

"My effect upon other still stands," Harry mumbled, "They are in awe."

"Oh, yeah," Louis sighed, "Forgot."

They reached the desk and as the secretary gaped at Harry, Louis took a look at the files they had beside them. Harry was about to raise a question of why, but before he could, Louis had grabbed his sleeve again, and tugged him towards the stairs. 

"I do not like this tugging," Harry informed him, as they began going up the stairs.

"Sorry," Louis instantly let go, "I just don't want to lose you."

He frowned at himself, blushing, and Harry could not help but smile.

"I meant-- Lose you. In the building. For you. To get-- lost," Louis shook his head, "Fuck."

"I understood what you meant," Harry said, "I would not like to lose you either."

Louis sent him a glance, and he looked so strange from beneath all of that white hair. He laughed. "It's so fucking unfair."

"What is?" They turned a corner.

"You still being able to stun people, no matter what you look like," Louis itched at his hand, "I mean, would you be able to turn into the ugliest person ever and still do that?"  
  
Harry did not like the way he had phrased the question. "No person is outwardly ugly."

"No-- I didn't mean--" Louis blushed, "You know what I meant."  
  
"If you wondered if my appearance changed my god-given abilities," Harry shrugged, "Then no. I am still the same underneath, no matter my outward complexion."

"I wish the world saw it that way," Louis sighed, "I mean, don't get me wrong, you're still attractive-- like that. But would people think that no matter if you were a god or not? If they weren't being influenced by-- whatever they're influenced by?"

"I do not know," Harry pondered, "Some people like what they like."

"That's true," Louis grimaced.

As they walked, Harry wondered what Louis 'liked'. There had not been any real correlation between the appearance of his one night stands, according to Niall. But Harry knew that _everyone_ had a type, even those who pretended they did not. Even _he_ did, deep down, so there was no way on Earth that Louis did not. He wondered, for a moment, what Louis' type would include. He found Harry attractive, in his original form, but apparently, so did everyone. He irritated Harry with his consistent contradictions.

"Shit--!"

Harry's thoughts were interrupted by Louis tensing, swearing, and tugging them both to the nearest corridor. His eyes grew wide, and his grip on Harry's sleeve was tight. Harry's confusion mounted as people passed them in the corridor, and Louis' fingertips began to tremble.

"What is going on?" Harry asked, and Louis glared at him.

"Shush," Louis mumbled.

"But--"  
  
_"Shush,"_ Louis met his eye.

The people walking past began to laugh. "Did you feel what I felt downstairs, man?"  
  
"Yeah, it was almost like--"  
  
"Like I was frozen, you know? And that guy that looked like George Clooney--That's all I remember."

"Yeah," one person sighed, "Fucking weird."

They passed, and in their absence, Louis edged a little closer to Harry. "You need to change."

"My face?" Harry whispered.

"They remembered you," Louis hissed, and his eyes were filled with fire, "From downstairs. So you need to change."

Harry blinked, and did. Louis' eyes widened in surprise.

"Uh...A woman?" 

"Yes?" Harry placed his hands on his hips, "Is there something wrong with that?"

"No," Louis looked away, "Course not. I just wasn't expecting the-- uh-- the--"

His gaze flickered, temporarily, to Harry's chest, and Harry rolled his eyes. He did not know where the movement came from, but it felt natural. He had only been on this Earth for so long, but Harry had grown tired of the male obsession with breasts instantly after discovering it.

They backed out of the corridor, and began to approach a door. It was a thick one, with a label on it that said _Mr Stewart: Chairman._ Harry wondered why it was necessary to declare that one liked, or had control of, a piece of furniture made for comfort. He would question Louis on it later.

"Okay," Louis mumbled, "So we stick to the plan."

Before Harry could respond an irritated looking woman stormed out of the office, glanced at them both. For a moment she was blinded by Harry's appearance, but then, she shook her head, and huffed.

"Sir!" She called, holding open the door, "There's some people here to see you!"

"Send 'em on in, then!" A voice boomed from the doorway, "What's your problem?"

The woman rolled her eyes and continued to walk. Harry wondered what had caused her to be so irritated, and unhappy. Was it to do with the voice that came from the room?

"I like your hair," He offered, in the hopes of improving the woman's mood, "It is very nice."

She just sighed. "I wouldn't go there if I were you."

Harry did not know if she was referring to the compliment or the voice inside the room. But, he had little time to question it: for she had already stomped on down the hall, and the person in the room was growing evermore impatient.

"Come on, then!" it said, booming, "Don't keep me waiting!"

Harry and Louis shared a look before entering. What was before them lay a room that Harry realised to be an office. It was not as warm or familiar as Louis' one, however. It was cold, and dark, and everything was of an angular shape. The man sat at the desk had a very thick moustache, and upon noticing Louis, began to chortle.

"Ho ho! Looks like the freak show's in town!" He hollered, and gesturing to Louis' hair, "Tell me, do you have any apples to juggle? Magic to perform? Card tricks?"

Louis' face twisted with slight embarrassment. However, he stood up straight, and asked-- "We're actually here to ask some, um, questions."

"Questions, hmm?" The man said, and looked up. He noticed Harry and grinned. "My, my."

As the effects of Harry's godliness sunk in as an expression of awe, Harry stood on the spot, hands behind his back.

"You're a pretty little thing, aren't you?" The man stood, "What do they call you, darling?"

"Uh," Harry looked at Louis for support.

"Yeah," Louis bit his lip, "We're not really here for--"

"Shush," The man scowled, "Come on. She's tryna talk. What's your name, honey?"

"Uh," Harry looked away, "Bart."

"Bart?" The man chuckled, "Now, that's no name for a pretty gal like you. I'm gunna call you Sarah."

"Ahem," Louis was quickly reddening, "Yeah. We're here just to ask some questions about--"

"Sarah, honey, what is your silly little boyfriend on about?" The man grinned, and Harry felt something build inside his stomach: was it annoyance?

"We are," Harry had not expected to have been given the baton, but stumbled on with it anyway, "Here to ask about your company."

"My company, eh?" The man sat back down, and lit a cigar, "Now. I like the sound of that."

Louis was oddly quiet, and it took Harry a moment to realise that his hands were, instead of shaking, tightly wound into fists. 

"Myyyyyy company," The man swung on his chair, "That's niiiice. And pretty damn true, considering I do all the work around here. But no, instead, it's Mrs Lyvoninsky this, Mrs Lyvoninsky that-- Did you see the news? She ain't even a Lyvoninsky anymore. The whole thing's stupid, if you ask me."

"We were wondering if you could tell us about--" Harry struggled to remember, but one grounding look from Louis was all he needed, "--When the companies came together. If you were...there."

"Course I was there," the man snorted, "I signed the damn agreement."

"You did?"

"Well, not willingly, of course," The man chuckled, "I was the damned vice president of Lyvoninsky & Co. It was Tim's business, back then. _TIM'S_ business. No damned Sheila to mess things up. And it was a good time, you know? We had plenty of money. Plenty of women. And the champagne just neverrrr stopped coming."

"She messed stuff up?" Louis asked, "How?"

His face was diplomatic, but Harry could tell from his jaw alone that he was very, very, angry.

"Well," the man sighed, "Where do I start? Her business was already failing when she came to us, you know. All pretending to love Tim, and blabbing about god-given blessings, and her heart on her sleeve...But the only thing she loved was his money. I could tell. That was no natural love I saw. They were married before I could get a word in, and the next thing I know is she's stolen my job. I keep the money, but she has all of the power. I mean, for God's sake, she's even out there spending what little money we have left chasing fairies, and I'm the one here running things. This company is a wreck, but at least it's my wreck."

He put out his cigar and stared out of the window for a while. 

"So..." Louis took a step forwards, "What you're saying is that you merged for money."

"I did nothing," the man looked at him, aggressively so, "You wanna know who did this? Turn on the television. The merge, the marriage? The failure? It's all on her. It was like this with her own company, and now it's happening to ours. The only thing I did was fill out the paperwork. Now, all I'm doing is counting down the hours before this company sinks."

Louis and Harry shared a look, in which the man stood, and began lighting another cigar.

"Do you know how many people I had to let go today?" He sighed, "Twelve. Twelve good men, good workers. All because she got her fucking panties in a twist."

"I don't think that's what--" Louis began, very agitated.

"Do you have any more information?" Harry asked, instead, and Louis quietened, "About why the companies came together?"

The man considered Harry for a moment.

"You know," he said, "I might be willing to divulge some more if you come a little closer, baby."

Harry did not like the pet-name, and Louis looked twice as unhappy about it. But Harry stood his ground.

"If--if she did do it for money," Harry spoke, diplomatically, "Is there any reason why she would?"

"She was rich already," Louis said, "Before she even met Tim, right?"

Harry nodded. The man began walking towards them, expression suspicious.

"She's a blue blooded piece of work," he grumbled, voice heavy with jealousy, "And she ran out of her parent's money. Said she spent the last of it on her honeymoon, and the next thing I know, I'm being told to sort the companies out. Make them bigger, Tim said. Put them together. It'll be a real good idea. Well, as it turns out, it wasn't. The companies didn't gel well. People left. And now, we're getting into a massive amount of debt."

Louis smiled, just a little, and it would've been missed in a heartbeat. Luckily, Harry's senses were a lot more developed than the average human's.

It should have allowed him to foresee what was coming next.

"Anyway, you'll be able to read this shit online, after her court case fails," the man stepped closer, "What I want to know now is, how long it'll take me to rip that shirt off of you."

His eyes hungrily lingered upon Harry's chest, and he took a step back in shock. Before he could speak, Louis was already stood between them, an unreadable expression in his features.

"Aaand we'll be going now," he said, quickly, "Thank you very much for your help, Mr Stewart."

"Why you leaving so soon?" Mr Stewart frowned, "I was just starting to have fun."

"We really must go," Harry began, tugging on Louis' arm, "I think, we have, to...uh..."

"I think," Mr Stewart took a step forwards, "You're going to reconsider walking out of that door."

"You think?" Louis' jaw was tight.

"You know, I was thinking about why you were asking all of these questions,"  Mr Stewart grinned, and reached for Harry's hand, "And I reckon you've got some ulterior motive. I'll let it slide, as long as this one stays with me. That okay with you, sweetheart?"

"No," Harry protested, "I don't think it is."  
  
"Listen, here, honey," Mr Stewart pushed Louis aside, "I don't think you know who I am, but--"

He reached for Harry once more, and Louis punched him.

-

Louis was sure that coming to the building in the first place was the worst idea he'd ever had. But then, he decided to punch the Chairman in the fucking face.

Everything moved so quickly. He already knew he was going to hate the bastard when the woman had walked out with that expression on her face. It was a bad omen he'd ignored, because things were going so well... And then, he started looking at Harry like that, and then, he wouldn't let them leave--

And fuck. The next thing Louis knew was that his hand was stinging, and there was a very angry looking Chairman in the room.

"Why, you little--" he said, and then, all he could feel was blinding pain, cracking him along the jaw.

There was a scream: _"_ _Louis!"_ and then another punch. Then, another. Then, another. Louis felt himself being thrown back, wig flying from his head, feet stumbling-- and then, not touching the ground at all.

He felt wind rustle past, and the feeling of someone pressed to him: warm, close, safe. Daylight and glass sped past his vision, but his eyes hurt-- his eyes hurt a _lot._ He heard a heave of something, like the beat of a wing, and then, he was on the floor.  It was not the office floor, though. It was _his_ floor, the floor of his apartment, but it looked all weird. Louis blinked, trying to make sense of it all, but his head was pounding, and it was awfully hard to understand anything.

"Louis," a voice said, frantically, "Louis."

It took Louis a moment, but he identified the voice as Harry. He felt hands fumbling around him, skirting across his chest and back, searching for more injuries. Then, the fingers touched his face, and he winced, but the sound in his ears was so loud he couldn't have been sure.

"Ahm," he murmured, "Urhm."

"Louis," Harry said, and Louis caught snippets of his face, his _real_ face: eyes wide, mouth parted in panic, "Louis. You're here. I am here. You are safe."

He tried to say: the chairman! But it ended up as a mangled, blurry mess of: "Thrr chayrrmnn?"

"He punched your face," Harry spoke, evidently worried, "I pushed him away."

"Burh," Louis blinked, "He sarrr."

"He saw nothing," Harry promised, "I carried you out. It's okay, Louis."

"Myrrr wirrgg," Louis reached his hand to touch his hair, but it was a mistake, because that hurt. A lot, "Whar did I do?"

"He hit you, many times, and you fell," Harry said, and his hands felt so soft on the back of Louis’ neck, "Louis, stay awake. Hey."

"I'm finne," Louis protested.

"You are concussed. I will heal you."

"Harry," Louis gargled, stuck in his arms, "Harry. Noooo."

A softer feeling came around him, and he realised it was Harry’s wings: soft, encasing, enveloping. They tucked themselves beneath him so that he was completely cradled in their grip, and he gasped at the feeling.

If Harry was warm, his wings were something else entirely.

"Harh," he breathed, against Harry’s chest.

He didn't want him to do this; not for him. He was fine, he was sure he was fine. He didn't want Harry to waste his time on this.

"Harh," he repeated, and he was crying. He was starting to hurt, so much, all over, and he'd fucked it all up.

"I have you," Harry repeated, and he pressed his forehead to Louis’. "I have you."

A warm feeling descended upon them, and then, a glow. Louis couldn't figure out where it was coming from, but then he realised it was Harry’s wings, shining from beneath him, hot and ethereal and beckoning. His entire body started to glow, from his chest to his eyes to his lips, and Louis was surrounded in it, surrounding in that light.

Then, it spread to him, and he gasped.

"I have you," Harry whispered, and Louis realised it was true.

He didn't feel himself _heal_ , exactly- just go numb. Then, Harry nudged their noses together, and the glow ended. Louis lay there, in his arms, for a while, trying to comprehend it all.

In the meantime, Harry leaned back, and skirted his fingertips along Louis’ jaw, Louis’ cheek; testing, wandering, eyes wet and close. Louis whimpered something noiseless, and Harry’s eyes closed.

"You are safe," he affirmed, taking Louis’ hand in his, "You are safe now."

Louis’ mouth was dry, but he found the words to speak. "You healed me."

"You hit the ground very hard."

Louis frowned. "I hit the ground?"

"Yes," Harry’s eyelashes batted, and he was so close that Louis _felt_ it.

"That bastard," Louis commented, and felt that anger rise in him again, "He--"

"He will not hurt you again," Harry murmured, and it was a promise.

"I know he won't," Louis said, hands on Harry’s chest, "Because if I see him again, I'm gonna deck the dickhead."

Harry laughed at that, and the shockwaves of it hit Louis, too.

"Thank you," he conceded, quietly, "For defending my honour."

His eyes were dark and deep. Louis rose his hand up to touch Harry’s cheek, and he was not sure why. He wanted to kiss him, because Louis was a stupid idiot with more feelings than sense.

"Thank you for flying me up here," he said, softly, "And fixing me."

Harry closed his eyes and rested their foreheads together once more. And then, he rose, still cradling Louis in his wings. The way they sat meant that Louis was still pressed against Harry’s chest. This was a good thing and a bad thing both, because it meant that Louis could hear his heartbeat for the first time. And, man. That shit was _fast._

"You must rest," Harry insisted, softly, "Your healing must be allowed to hold."

"Harry," Louis shook his head, "No."  
  
"Harry, yes," Harry breathed, "Louis, you fell to the ground."

"We needed...We needed to get the evidence, Harry," Louis batted at him, "And we didn't."

"It is fine."

"It's not fine! We just have our word!" Louis protested, "We...It's not enough. Against his, it isn't. That bastard won't assure us that he said it. We have nothing."  
  
"All is well," Harry promised, "Please, Louis. Rest."

"I can't," Louis whispered, "I can't. I fucked up, and I fucked this whole thing up, and I'm sorry."

He twisted with self-loathing, but Harry did not let go of him, and instead, held him tighter.

"Louis," He spoke, with purpose, "Listen very closely to me. It is fine. Please do not worry."

"How can I not?" Louis frowned, "You were there, Harry, you--"

"I recorded it."

"What?" The fight left Louis at once.  
  
"Your phone, in my pocket," Harry retrieved it, and held it in the air, "I recorded it."

"You--" Louis stared, in awe.

And then, he hugged him.

"You lifesaver!" He squealed, and Harry laughed, as if he did not know whether to be concerned or happy, "You absolute fucking lifesaver."

"I doubt your injuries were that severe," he mused.

"Oh my God," Louis breathed, "Oh my God. And it's all on there?"

"It ended when we began to fly," Harry spoke, seriously, "My pocket pressed the button of the stop. But I did not think we needed that part."

"You--" Louis held him tight, "You're honestly perfect."

Harry squirmed at that, and patted his back, "Louis, you must rest."

"Okay," Louis let go of him, and laughed, "Okay. I'm resting. God. This is great. That bastard won't know what hit hi--"

" _Rest,_ Louis," Harry said, and his voice was so compelling that Louis could not disagree. He shuffled, eyes drawing to a close, and then he was asleep.

-

Louis awoke with Angie drooling on him. He giggled at that, but then his head started to thump, and he realised why he was there in the first place.

"Hey," he said, to no-one in particular. 

"Hello," a voice replied. 

He looked down to see Harry sat-cross legged, leaning against the sofa. His face was slightly red, and as he met Louis' gaze, he smiled.

"Did I--" Louis scowled, "Did I go to sleep?"

"Yes," Harry said, warmly so.

"But it's four pm," Louis spoke, lifelessly, "I never sleep during the day."

"You never sleep at night, either," Harry messed with the carpet.

Apprehension crept up Louis' stomach. "How do you know that?"

"I don't need to sleep, Louis," Harry sighed, "That makes me very receptive to noises. And I hear you in the kitchen when you should be asleep."

"Sorry about that," Louis sighed.

"There is no need to be sorry," Harry spoke, "I do not need sleep as you do, and you appeared very tired. So, I convinced you to sleep."

Louis blinked. "You can _do_ that?"

"It takes up a lot of my energy," Harry mumbled, "But when I wish to, I can compel humans do to my bidding."

"Whoa," Louis looked at Angie, who licked his arm in return, "I didn't know you could do that."

"I do not like doing it," Harry said, and for someone who didn't need sleep, he sounded awfully tired, "But sometimes, I must."

Louis reached out, and touched his shoulder. "Hey. Thank you."

Harry patted his hand in return. "You are welcome."

"I'm sorry I freaked out, too," Louis spoke, "I just... I fucked up back then."

"It is okay."

"I was seriously, seriously unprofessional," Louis looked away, "I punched a guy, H. I did it because I wanted to, and not for the good of the case. And it was stupid."

"It is fine, Louis," Harry smiled, and turned to him, "H?"

"Uh, H," Louis retracted his touch, and blushed, "It's...Short for Harry."

"But Harry is already a nickname," Harry murmured, but he seemed deeply delighted.

"I dunno," Louis spoke, wide-eyed, "I just...I just felt like shortening it. Sorry."

He shuffled, embarrassed, and began looking at Angie to distract himself, but Harry's hand came up to hold his.

"No," Harry said, and his eyes were alight, "I like it. Really. Just as I like the name Styles."

"Is that gunna be your last name, then?" Louis snorted, "Because you sort of need one."

Harry bit his lip. "Maybe."

Without warning, Louis' face split into a stupid fucking smile. And even Angie knew there was something awry about it, because she leaped onto him, and started licking his face.

"Angie," Louis protested, laughing, "Angie, no."

Harry was cackling. And then, he placed his hand on Louis' knee, and said:

"I will call you Lou."

"Lou," Louis repeated, holding Angie to his chest, "Mm. Yeah. I like it."

"You do?"

"Yeah," Louis stroked her, "It's, uh, sort of what my mum used to call me."

There was a pause, in which Harry looked at him, and Louis could've fallen into the eyes he found there. They were the palest of greens: endless, bright, passionate, glistening with tears. They were eyes that were hopelessly open, and real, and eyes that made Louis feel safe.

They were eyes he did not want to stop looking into.

"Louis," Harry spoke, infected with grief, "I'm so sorry."

"Harry," Louis shook his head, "Don't be. It's fine."

"Do you promise?" 

Harry's bottom lip stuck out, ever so slightly, and Louis wanted to suck on it. He sobered in his thoughts when he realised the topic of their conversation, and concluded that Jay would've found this entire situation hilarious.

"I promise," he smiled, and Harry nodded in satisfaction. In doing so, he exposed a lot more of his shirt than what Louis had been previously able to see. And...Shit. It was covered in sparkles.

"Harry," he said, deeply alarmed, "Have you been crying?"

"I am well," Harry spoke, weakly, and turned back around.

"Harry," Louis sat up, and Angie strolled from him, annoyed, "Is...Is something wrong?"

Harry remained silent, so Louis prodded him further.

"Is it to do with me punching that guy? Because...I know it was wrong, and I'm really sorry."

A sigh, and Harry's shoulders slumped. "I just..."

"What?"

"Today...Being treated like that," Harry's face was sombre, "It reminded me that I am not invincible."

Louis frowned at the back of his head: _what the fuck was he on about?_ But, luckily, Harry decided to expand.

"On Olympia," he explained, voice quiet and soft, "There would never be anything like that. There was never anything-- negative, to a degree. There was just wrong and right. Up and down. Us, and the humans. And we'd never be degraded, or offended, or hurt. We were what we were. That is all."

Angie sniffed at Harry's legs, and he closed his eyes. Louis couldn't be sure, but it seemed as though he was trying very hard not to admit what he was going to.

"I-- We were always told that to be less than perfect was not admirable," he spoke, "And of course that is what we were told. We were gods, up there. We were infinite, we were powerful, and we could not be touched by anything. And that is what I thought. But then, I was stricken from the clouds. That was the first straw. And now, I was hurt-- I was offended-- by the words of a man like that. He made me feel scared, Louis! He could do nothing to me, and yet I felt scared. I felt-- I was-- vulnerable."

"Harry--" Louis spoke, but Harry shook his head.

"I'm scared of this," Harry hissed, and he looked down, "I am scared of not being a god any longer. I fear not having this--protection, around me. This god-given power. Because if it cannot shield me from feelings like discomfort, and rage, and fear, than what good is it for? We were told on Olympia that we would never feel such emotions, that they were beneath us. And now--"

"Now you're feeling them," Louis finished. Harry nodded.

"It's--" Harry turned, "Very strange, to me. I know it must be uncanny to hear. But I've scarcely felt negative emotions in my time. And now that they are here, and I'm exposed to these experiences-- they burn so brightly that I am scared of them. I am scared that they will taint me. I know no other god has felt them like this, because no god that still resides on Olympia has ever been in the mortal world for this long. Not one like me. Not-- a minor god."

He seethed with frustration, and Louis was beginning to understand why.

"--I worry that if I am no longer a god, that if-- the court case does not go as planned, or if-- Zeus casts me out because of what I feel, because of what I have experienced-- than I shall be nothing," Harry summarised, "I am my work, Louis. I am what I do. And I failed, for the first time, and I have lost everything dear to me. I have lost my home. I have shamed my people. And now I am here, disrespected by some-- man. Things that gods are never, ever meant to do. And my heart has never felt so heavy."  
  
"You're scared of losing what's important to you," Louis spoke, voice quiet, "Harry-- I know exactly what that feels like."

"It is shameful, for me," Harry mumbled, darkly, "For others it seems normal. But although I feel what I feel, and I feel it deeply-- It is not normal for someone of my nature."  
  
" _Fuck_ your nature," Louis said, and Harry turned to him, alarmed, "I mean it. If your family's gunna turn on you like that for feeling, then they're not worth shit. I'm sorry, but it's true."  
  
Harry looked away, and Louis gripped his shoulder.

"Harry, you--You do so much for so many people," he enthused, "Okay, so maybe right now you're standing still. Maybe right now you're not doing what you feel like you should be. But that doesn't mean it's wrong. You're doing this to be back home, with your mother, and all that love you. And you're doing this for _them._  To uphold their honour, and their values. Do you know how selfless that is? Do you know how many people you help? And not once have you asked for too much, or been unkind, or impatient, or cruel. Do you know what I would've done if I were you?"

Harry shook his head, eyes wet with tears.

"Well, I would've thrown a fit, for one," Louis shrugged, "I would've been so pissed off that they turned on me just for making a mistake, no matter who they are. Everyone makes mistakes. Everyone. And there's no way I would've been as patient as you have. I would've lost it at the first hurdle, or given up, or screamed at everyone that I saw in the street. Because I'm not you, H. And I'm not as-- strong, as you are. And I see the merits in you that your family doesn't."

"Louis, I--" Harry choked up, clearly emotional.

"It's okay to feel these things," Louis spoke, holding his shoulder, "Everyone gets this way. Everyone. It's just a part of being alive, you know? The lows of it all. It's what makes the highs so special. And if the gods don't experience that where you live, I-- I don't envy them. Because, okay, it might be nice to picture paradise, where everything is good all of the time, and wonders never cease. But-- real life isn't like that. Real life is messy, and cruel, and yeah, it kicks you in the dick sometimes. But it's also so good, H. And so rewarding. And-- you're feeling that. You're feeling how good and how bad it can be. And just because you're seeing things in a different way to everyone you knew doesn't make it wrong. It just-- doesn't."

 _"Louis,"_ Harry breathed, crying, and Louis clambered down and hugged him.

It felt closer than last time, more intimate. Harry let out a series of deep breaths against Louis' neck, sniffling, and Louis patted his back, enveloped with it. 

"There's something me mum used to say. _'Even if the world falls down'._ And she used to say it to me all the time, and she never really explained it, but I guess I only realised what it meant to me...you know. And I guess what I'm saying is...Even if your world is falling down, it's not the end of it. Because you're you. And you're not alone. And you will find your footing again, no matter what happens."

Harry nodded, rapidly, into Louis' shoulder, and Louis put his hand in his hair. It felt right, so he left it there, and spent the next few minutes brushing strands from Harry's cheek.

"I never say this, but...Let's focus on the good stuff," Louis said, "I mean, we got some kick-ass evidence today."

He felt Harry smile against his neck, "You punched someone mean."

"Yeah," Louis chuckled, "I punched someone mean. And I'm probably going to get in a shit ton of trouble for it, but..."

"Hey! Focus on the good stuff!" Harry sniffed, and Louis nodded.

"Yes," he said, "God. I told you I'm not very good at this..."

"I healed you," Harry murmured.

"Yeah," Louis said, "I guess that's a plus."

"We made cool nicknames for each other."

"Yes!" Louis laughed, "And I discovered I can _not_ pull off platinum blonde."

"Heyy," Harry sat up, a little, and Louis shrugged.

"What? I can't."

"You said focus on the good things!"

Louis laughed. "I am!"

"Why is that a good thing?"

"Well, it's better to know, isn't it?" Louis said, "I mean, imagine me deciding to dye my hair blonde in the future, and not knowing how awful it looked."

"It was a silly wig," Harry blinked, "Niall said he bought it from the cheapest of the stores."

"It clashed," Louis giggled, "Horribly. There's no wonder he punched me."

"It did not look that bad," Harry argued, "I still believe you can pull it off."

"Yeah, well," Louis shuffled, embarrassed, "You probably think I can pull off anything."

"I do," Harry said, breathlessly, "Of course I do."

Their eyes met, and Louis' breath hitched.  _Of course I do._

"I...Er..." he remarked. Suddenly, he became all-too aware of how close they were sitting.

"Your heartbeat," Harry murmured, and he brushed his fingertips along Louis' wrist, "It is fast."

"Uh," Louis felt dizzy, "Yeah."

"Is it to do with me?"

"Uh," Louis swayed, "Yeah."

Harry came a little closer. "Louis."

Their noses brushed. "Uh-huh?"

"I need to tell you something," Harry whispered, and Louis _swore_ they were about to kiss, his eyes were closing, Harry's hand was still on his wrist, and their lips were almost touching--

The doorbell rang.

"Shit," Louis opened his eyes.

"It is Liam," Harry murmured, and his eyelashes wavered, "Niall told him of our findings."

"Our findings?" Louis sat back, "Wait, does Liam know--"

The doorbell rang again, frantically so. 

"Harry," Louis sat up, "Does he know we went?"

"Niall must have told," Harry frowned, just a little, "I told him that we found evidence, I did not tell Liam that we we--"

_Ding dong ding dong ding dong ding dong_

"Shit," Louis scrambled up, "Shit shit _shit._ "

"Louis," Harry said, "Calm."

"He's gunna kill us." Louis approached the door.

"I assure you," Harry shook his head from the carpet, "Liam will not--"

Louis opened the door, and Liam looked livid. His eyes flitted, once, between Harry and Louis, before settling, dangerously, on Louis.

"Let me say this once," he said. "I'm gunna kill you."

-

Harry did not understand the majority of the shouting that ensued in the next twenty minutes. Mostly because Louis made him leave the room before it started. He heard snippets of it, but Angie was distressed by the noise, so he spent most of the time calming her down, instead, but nonetheless, he heard snippets:

_"His interview is literally today and you pull shit like this?! What is wrong with you?"_

_"Well, I'm sorry for wanting to actually win this case, Li? What have you been doing to help, exactly? Nothing!"_

_"Don't you put this on me!"_

_"I'm not! I just-- I think you should see this from both sides!"_

_"What if you'd been caught?"_

_"We would've figured it out!"_

_"AKA you would've waited for me to save the fucking day! Like always! I'm sick of you relying on me!"_

_"The whole point of us going into the fucking place was to NOT rely on you, you dickface!"_

_"By getting caught?"_

_"No! By getting some actual fucking evidence without you!"_

_"Well, fine!"_

_"Fine!"_

It went on for quite some time, and when Louis came back into the living room, his eyes were red.

"Eh. Well. That was fun," he said, but his voice was wavering.

"Lou," Harry spoke, more than ready to comfort him, but Louis' hands began to shake.

"I, er," he stated, jittery, "I'm gunna go make some tea."

He left and Harry sighed, compassionately, into Angie's fur. He watched her trot around him in circles, and sighed.

"Why is this world so strange, Angie?" He asked, and she nuzzled his leg, "I do not understand it."

She licked his hand, and then gave him a look that said: _Me neither, but you should probably go comfort him._ And, finding no fault with the argument, Harry decided it would be best if he heeded her advice.

-

Louis was leaning over a cup of tea in his bedroom when Harry approached him. Much to Louis' surprise, he knocked on the door.

"Hey," he spoke, oddly hesitant.

He was wearing one of Louis' baggy sweaters, one so baggy that it almost fit the mood. It was grey, and shone in contrast to the pale of Harry's skin, exposing one of his collarbones. Louis couldn't help but stare at it.

"Hey."

"Did Liam go?" Harry sat beside him, and Louis nodded.

"He fucked off," he laughed, bitterly, and Harry made a frown, "But hey. What a surprise. Everyone does."

"Hey. Not _everyone_ ," Harry assured, and patted his knee.

Harry, unfortunately, was inexperienced with the natural phenomenon that was a bitter Louis. This made him extremely unaware of how to deal with him in this state: and Louis didn't blame him. Nobody really could.

"Whoop," Louis said, because he was a bitter piece of shit, "There it is."

Harry frowned. "There what is?"

"The _touching_ shit. Why do you do that?" Louis shook his head, well and truly done.

Green eyes skittishly met his. "Do what?"

"Put your hand on me. On my arm, on my knee, on my face," Louis pointed, "Do you know what it does to me? You've gotta know. It must be part of your godly mission to seduce everyone, or--"

Harry's expression blossomed with hurt, and he instantly retracted his touch.

"I am--sorry," Harry frowned, confused with himself, "I only meant to help."

He turned away from Louis and stared at the wall, silently calculating what he did wrong. Louis felt bad instantly. No-- he felt  _awful._ Something about the way he'd turned Harry's kindness into something ugly sat horribly within his stomach, and he wanted to vomit.  
  
"Ignore me," Louis sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose, "I'm an asshole."

"You are not," Harry murmured, slowly. "I could never ignore you. You are my friend."

"You shouldn't be," Louis said, seething with self-hatred, "I'm going to fucking ruin this case, H."

"Noooo," Harry begged, "No. You're not."

"I am," Louis laughed, bitterly so, "I fucking am. I'm a mess."

He'd always been a mess, but he was even more of one when angry. Or upset. Or tired. Which he was: all three, in fact. The day had been wild from start to finish, and it was at times like these that he honestly wanted to say 'fuck it' and walk away. But he couldn't. He just-- couldn't. He hated himself for that: being such a failure at everything that he even failed at being an asshole. He'd be shit to people, but not shit enough to follow it through. His utter pathetic nature would come through, every time, and everyone would grow tired of it, and leave.

He was insensitive. He was brash. He was reckless, and stupid, and selfish, and naive. 

He hated every bit of it.

"Louis," Harry spoke, voice soft, "I want to help."

"You are helping," Louis sighed, "Listen, I'm fine. I'm just angry."

"Why?"  
  
"I don't know," the words stung, "I love it when people tell me I'm right all along, but when someone does I just-- hate it. I don't know."

Harry frowned, and a dark curl tumbled over his eye. "I don't understand."

Louis looked at him, sorrowfully. "I pushed my doubts away to go into that building, H. I ignored my doubts when I punched that guy. And it's not just today. I just always have these doubts, everywhere. And I know they're there all along, and I tell myself them, but then people tell me to be happy, so I ignore them, and then... someone tells me everything I knew already about what I did. And how it was wrong. They confirm it for me. And I still don't like it, because at the time I was ignoring it, and I don't even know if I'm making sense right now. All I know is that I'm a fucking mess. And a contradiction. And I hate it."

He paused, not knowing exactly why, or how, he told Harry all of that. There was something about him, somehow, that made it infinitely easy to do so. Something he could not put his finger on. 

"Everyone is a contradiction," Harry squeezed his hand, "Everyone. Even I."

Louis smiled at the attempt. "I'm fine, Harry. You don't have to do this."

"You do not realise that it is okay," Harry said, "To feel what you're feeling."  
  
"Okay, so now you're using my own advice against me."

"You do not know how wise and strong you are," Harry smiled, "So it is only natural."

Louis shuffled, uncomfortable under the praise. But Harry persisted:

"It is also only natural, and logical, that you also know that you are not alone. And that we did some good by going into that building, today. And that you did a good thing by protecting me. It was selfless and kind, and not at all assholey. It may have been reckless, but it was not assholey. Never that."

Louis smiled, beyond tired. "I-- er-- Thanks."

"You are welcome," Harry tucked a strand of hair behind Louis' ear, "And I also feel I must tell you that you are not a mess. You are human."

"I'm just--" Louis sighed. "Yeah. I guess that pretty much spells it out."

"Humans are a jumble of things," Harry spoke, "They are cruel whilst kind, ignorant whilst knowing, reckless whilst careful. It is confusing to even the gods, so I cannot imagine what it must be like for you."

"It's a shitfest," Louis admitted, and he patted Harry's hand, "I'm sorry about what I said about the touching thing. I really don't mind it."

"It is fine, as long as you accept my advice," Harry raised an eyebrow, "Do you accept my advice, Louis?"

Louis hesitated. Truthfully, the answer was no: because accepting the advice meant accepting the praise, and his humility could not process it. But, instead, he nodded, and even though Harry did not look like he believed it, he smiled nonetheless.

"I will continue to help you later," he promised, "But Liam told me that if I do not get ready for this interview, he will burn my bow and arrow."

"Shit," Louis laughed at that, despite himself, "In this mood, I really don't think he's bluffing."

-

The interview was being held in Louis' office, which was a curse and a blessing, because it meant that Harry wouldn't be too far away if things went wrong, but also that Liam and Louis could work on the case with their brand new evidence. It was just as well, because the first hearing was in two days, and--fuck. Louis had never hated the Lyvoninskys more than he did now for bringing the court date closer. He also, inadvertently, blamed them for the angry glares Liam was sending his way. (Admittedly, those were his fault.)

"Okay," he said, for the fourteenth time, "You don't have to answer anything you don't have to."

"Louis," Harry giggled, "I am aware."

"I just want to make sure you know," Louis rubbed his eyes, "Sorry."

"Today has been--" Harry made a face, "Hectic. But I shall be fine."

He was sat in Louis' chair, and swinging his feet around. Louis couldn't help but be endeared by the action, as Harry spun, and spun, and spun. After the fifth spin Louis held his hand out to stop it, and Harry giggled once more at him.

"Hey," Louis said, "Just remember to stay calm, alright?"

Harry nodded. "All is well, Louis."

"Yeah," Louis murmured, "All is well."

A very angry Liam stuck his head around the door frame, "They're here."

"Okay," Louis squeezed Harry's arm, "Good luck. We'll be right through in the other room if you need us."

"I do not want to disturb your case planning," Harry frowned, innocently, and Louis wanted to kiss him.

"Please," he begged, being lead out of the room by Liam, "Be my guest."

Harry laughed, and that was the last he saw of him before the prosecutors went in. Louis couldn't help but catch a glimpse of them before he joined Liam in his office, and so he did. The first was tall, way taller than him, with long dreadlocks, and a bright blue moustache.

The other was short, thinly-built, with a long, wiry nose, and jet black hair. It took Louis a moment to realise where he'd seen him before, and when he did, his entire body froze with shock.

The man turned to look at him as he entered the office, and he, too, froze. But it was not as a result of Harry's godliness.

It was as a result of the man standing in front of him.

"I--" he said, truly shocked, "Louis?"

"Colin," Louis murmured, legs weak, "Holy _fuck_."

-

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what a soap ending! such suspense! such marvel! such wonder!!!!  
> [https://rhuubarb.tumblr.com/post/162639587883/cupids-defence-by-rhuubarb-length-92k]


	9. Chapter 9

ix.

 

The interview was just as Louis said it would be: _"Boring, but necessary."_

There were no questions Harry felt as though he could not answer, but he could not help but feel that one of the people asking questions were not fully...Focusing, on him. It was a pale man with dark eyes and a very jittery composure, not too dissimilar to Louis'. And, for whatever reason, he kept glancing at the clock.

"Is there something wrong with it?" Harry asked, when the man had looked up for the thirteenth time.

"What?"

"The clock," Harry frowned, "You keep glancing its way."

"It's nothing," the man spoke, coldly, and they went on with the interview.

It was only after it had finished, and the men left with a flurry of notes, that Harry realised he had seen the pale one before. His eyes-- it was definitely his eyes. Brown, uncomfortable, and fleeting. The expression was what Harry recognised the most, however- because it had been the same the last time Harry had seen them. And how could he have forgotten?

It was the one time his arrow had missed.

He had tried to forget it since, because it really did make no sense at all, and he had told himself it had been a trick of the light. But the story still remained the same.

Eight years ago, he had felt a skip in his heart. It was in the mid-afternoon of a Tuesday, the summer air heavy, and the clouds sparse. Harry had flown outside of what looked to be a school, and sat in the tree closest to where his heart was skipping, so that he was not seen. He waited until his heart grew louder, and when he looked down, a crowd had formed beneath him.

The man had been there. He was younger, then, but held the same eyes. And he was in the midst of the crowd, being talked to by someone in a thick-looking outfit. Harry mused that there was no way that it could have been comfortable to stand in that outfit in the heat, but then again, young love rarely made sense. So, he watched the couple talk, and he watched the man's face twist with embarrassment, and he thought: this is it! This is the skip.

He held out his arrow and held it towards the boy in the outfit, and here's the funniest thing:

It bounced from him.

It ricocheted, and flew to the sky. Harry had never known anything like it. He had frowned, aiming once more, but the arrow refused to hit the boy in the outfit. It just-- didn't.

Harry did not understand how it could have been. He was feeling a skip in his heart, and yet his arrows would not let the couple be together. He'd watched them part, and watched the crowd laugh as the boy ran away, clearly distressed. Harry had been so ashamed in his failures that he did not share the happening with the rest of the gods. They would have found it amusing that his bow had defied him, how he was so powerful, yet had been bested by a human in a funny-looking costume.

And so he had forced himself not to think about it since. It still perplexed him, but he could not voice his concerns to the man now-- how could he? He had grown up since the last time Harry had seen him, and no doubt moved on from the failure in love that had occurred that day.

He wondered if he should have shared this coincidence of meeting with Louis. But, when Harry walked out of the office and into Liam's, he was no longer there.

-

Louis did not know why he agreed to it.

Colin had basically tackled him on his way to the toilet, all dark eyes, and thin mouth, and immovable posture. Louis had tried his best to avoid him, but Colin had already seen him, and, fuck--

"Can we talk?" Colin spoke, and Louis wanted to faint.

"The...interview," he said, distant, "You're meant to be..."

"We just finished," Colin's face was as intense as it had always been, "I have everything I need to know."

"I need to...go," Louis lied, and began to blush.

Colin took his hand.

"Louis, please," he begged, "I know this is strange. But it's been so long since I've seen you."

"So long since you rejected me on the fucking pavement, you mean?" Louis hissed, and pulled his hand away, "In front of everyone?"

"I'm sorry," Colin murmured, and he looked as though he meant it, "I mean, I _said_ I was sorry-- did you not get my calls?"

"Funnily enough, I changed my number," Louis looked away, bitterly so.

"I knew as soon as I saw you take down the Cowell case years ago that I had to talk to you," Colin bit his lip, "About everything. It's been so long."

It _had_ been so long. Colin was so much...Older, now. And so was Louis. But Louis was no longer the innocent boy on the pavement. He was a big, bad, lawyer now. And he wouldn't allow himself to be hurt again.

"Well," he spoke, harshly, "It's been nice seeing you."

"Louis," Colin said, and stood in front of him, "Please. Can we just talk it over? I-- I don't want anything from you but closure."

"Why the fuck should I give you it?" Louis threw his hands in the air, "I mean, for fuck's sake, Colin-- It's been eight years!"

"I know."

"We've gone our separate ways now! I've gotten over it!"

"I know," Colin bit his lip, "I just thought it would be nice to-- catch up. Bury the hatchet."

Louis sighed, deeply so, and closed his eyes. 

"We've both changed," Colin took a step forward, "And we were friends, once. I don't want to throw that away over some dumb-- thing."

Louis' jaw clenched: it was _some dumb thing_ that had scarred him from relationships for eight fucking years. He hated it.

"Please," Colin spoke, "Let's get dinner. Catch up. And if you don't want to see me again after that, then fine."

Every instinct inside of him told him no. But then, there it was: that tiny, sympathetic look in Colin's eyes that had made Louis fall for him so hard, so long ago. It may have not had the same affect on him now, but it was still enough to change his mind.

"Fine," he had said.

And there they were. Sat in the cafe across the road, the evening creeping in through the clouds. Colin ordered a sandwich, but Louis just had a drink. Funnily enough, he'd lost his appetite.

"So," Colin tried, and it was clear he was nervous, "How have you been?"

"How have I been?" Louis blinked, "Well, I went to law school. Got a job."

"Me too," Colin laughed, nervously.

"Evidently."

"Well, I- I was going to go into teaching, but then I thought I'd be much better at this," Colin smiled, "I like the power I have in there, you know? The courtroom. Being able to put my point out there, and watching the judge say I've won."

"That's...cool," Louis said. He did not agree with Colin's interpretation of the law courts, not one bit, but he was attempting to be civil. A part of him made him wonder how Harry had found the interview.

"How are you finding it?" Colin asked, brightly, "Being a lawyer, and all that?"

"It's fun," Louis took a sip of his drink, "It's even more fun taking down multi-millionaires, but hey ho."

Colin laughed, awkwardly, "It's some case we're on here, haha."

"Certainly is," Louis crossed his arms, "So you wanna tell me how you managed to work for Lyvoninsky?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you certainly aren't well known in the law world," Louis spoke, "So what is it? This your first case?"

"Well, yes," Colin spoke, "But I'm very good at it."

"Really," Louis said.

"Yes," Colin smoothed out his tie, "From the words of Sheila herself, I--"

He paused, having given too much away. And Louis realised that in an instant that it wasn't just the money that Sheila was leaving Tim for.

"Jesus Christ," he sighed, "Please tell me you're not sleeping with her."  
  
"It's a hard world, Louis," Colin frowned, and sat back in his chair, "I had to get the case somehow."

"Yeah, but--" Louis scowled, " _Sleeping_ with her? A woman twice your age?"

"It is nothing to do with you," Colin scowled, "Anyway, you know how competitive it is out here. We have to do what we have to do."  
  
"Orr," Louis leaned forward, "You could just work hard. Get a firm. Get actual clients without _sticking your dick_ in them."  
  
"It's not like that," Colin murmured, and his eyes were cold.

"Is it not?" Louis laughed, lifelessly, "So, what. Did she tell you she's leaving him for you next? Or that you'll get some of the divorce settlement money?"

Colin didn't answer, his expression sour. "Can we talk about something else?"

"I can't believe you," Louis spoke, and he was repulsed to the bone, "Other people will have worked so hard to get the case, you know."

He remembered Liam on the phone all day, trying to get a word in. And all the meanwhile, his first love was going that extra mile...Doing  _that_ to win over the case...It made him sick.

"They didn't try hard enough," Colin spoke, and it was with a coldness that Louis had never before seen in him, "Enough about my love life, Louis. How are you?"

"What?"

"Have you, you know," Colin looked at him blankly, "Found anyone?"

Louis' brain said no, but his heart said: Harry. For whatever reason, he remembered their moment hours ago, Harry sat so close to him that they shared the same air, his hand on Louis' wrist...

"No," he spoke, hastily, because what he felt towards Harry were just heat of the moment things, a crush at best...And after all, he just liked _kissing_ him, it wasn't as if he really liked the other stuff...In that way...

"Ah," Colin spoke, "That's a shame."

Louis shuffled in his seat and wondered what Harry and Liam were up to. He looked across the window, at their little law firm, and thought about running his fingers through Harry's curls.

"So, do you think you're ready for the first hearing?" Colin spoke.

"Just about," Louis said.

That, at least, was true. In the space of an hour he and Liam had, angrily so, built up their defence around the audio recording they'd gotten. It wasn't the best it could be, but it was the best they could have done in so little time. Louis may have not resented Colin, but he certainly resented the firm he was representing, and their unwavering attempts to sabotage Harry's chances.

"It should be fun," Colin bit his lip, "That Cupid character is certainly...something."

Louis looked up, and something sharp twisted in his gut. "Ah, yeah. Harry."

"Harry," Colin grinned, "Oooh."

 _Don't say his name,_ Louis thought.  _It sounds ugly in your mouth._

"He's cute and all," Colin shrugged, "In all honesty, I am still trying to comprehend that he's real."

"Me too," Louis sighed, "Listen-- I should get back."

Colin checked his watch, "But it's not even six yet."

"--Still," Louis stood, "It was nice, er, seeing you, Colin."

"You too, Louis," Colin spoke, and stood too, "Hey. Until next time?"

"That won't be necessary," Louis smiled, and then, he was at the door, "Thanks."

"But--" Colin protested, but it was too late.

Louis left.

There was a certain satisfaction in leaving the ex-love-of-your-life gawping, like a fish, in the front of a cafe. And for the first time in ages, although there was still a sharp wound where Colin had been, inside of him...Louis felt as though it could finally start to heal.

-

Liam didn't talk much.

Harry learned this the hard way: sat in his office, waiting for Louis to come back. He didn't even know where Louis had  _gone_ , and he wanted, hopelessly, to tell him about the man who had interviewed him. Louis would know what to do: he had the best advice. And even if he didn't, it would be nice to tell someone after all of this time.

"Will he be back soon?" Harry asked, and Liam glared at him.

"You've asked that three times, now," he said, and continued reordering files.

"You did not answer the first and second," Harry blinked.

"Well, I don't know the answer, so why would I reply?"

Harry supposed that made sense. He continued swinging his legs on the chair Liam had made him sit on, and watched the lights up above.

"I like these," he said, softly, and Liam glanced up.

"Fairy lights," he supplied.

"Yes," Harry beamed, "Lights of the rainbow."

He stood, and wandered over to them: brushing his fingertips along the bulbs. Liam watched him do this for a second, clearly irritated, before loudly closing his jaw.

"You know," he stated, composure tight, "I asked you to sit down for a reason."

"I really do enjoy these lights. How do they hang so?" Harry stood on tiptoe.

"Uh," Liam blinked, "Pins."

"Pins," Harry remarked, and smiled, "You must be very smart."

"Is that meant to be a joke?" Liam stood a little straighter, "Are you fucking with me right now?"

"I do not _'fuck'_ with people," Harry blinked, softly so, "I like asking questions."

"And making irrelevant statements, obviously," Liam shook his head. 

A thought came to Harry, suddenly. Liam was a close friend of Louis', so surely he knew a lot more about him than Harry did. Perhaps he could learn more about him through a... secondary source. He hoped Louis would not mind.

"Liam," he said, turning from the lights, "Do you know if Louis...likes anyone?"

"Likes anyone?" Liam scowled, "No."

"Oh," Harry bit his lip and turned away, "So he hasn't...talked to you. About anymore."

"Fucking Hell, Harry," Liam sighed, "He doesn't even tell me about the big things in his life, let alone..."

He looked away, continuing to stack the paper on his desk.

"What do you mean the big stuff?" Harry put his hands behind his back, "Like going into the headquarters?"

Liam's gaze met Harry's, sternly so. 

"We are very sorry for that," Harry murmured, "We did not mean to cause you harm."

"You didn't cause me harm," Liam grumbled, "It was just stupid. And I wasn't on about that."

"Then what?" Harry frowned.

"The love shit," Liam exhaled through his nose, "The whole thing with his high school crush, he didn't...He didn't tell me about that until he was drunk, at uni. And now you. He didn't tell me about the case until he really had to. And the headquarter shit-- would he have told me unless Niall forced his hand? I don't think so."  
  
"I believe he would," Harry murmured, hands clasped together.

"You don't know Louis like I do," Liam shook his head, "He just _does_ this shit, and he thinks he's sparing people from discovering how pathetic he is, or worrying, but it does the exact opposite. He goes all out and it just causes pain for everyone, and then he spends the rest of his life picking up the pieces and making everyone feel sorry for him."

"He does not like pity," Harry reminded him.

"I know," Liam shoved a file into a box, "And that's why he's so bloody infuriating."

Harry paused, feeling as though a rant was in store.

He was not disappointed.

"The thing is with Louis," Liam looked away, "Is that he loves other people, so much. He'll never say it, but he does. He'd do anything for a stranger on the street. He'd put himself in harms way for a squirrel. He'd jump in front of a train to save someone just a bit of trouble. And while he does all of this, he hates himself. He hates himself so, so much, and he never cuts himself any slack. So when the bad things happen to him in response to him being so reckless, he thinks he deserves them."

"He punishes himself?" Harry whispered, shocked.

"Yes," Liam crossed his arms, "And it never changes. He knows what the consequences are to some of the shit he does, but because he thinks he deserves all of the shit, he thinks:  _better me than them!,_  and he just doesn't care anymore. It's only when he thinks someone else is going to hurt because of his actions that he actually fucking stops to think about it. He drives me up the wall."

Harry stopped for thought. When he had first met Louis, Louis had stayed up all night to learn more about Harry, so he could potentially learn about his case. He'd stopped himself from sleeping that night, for a complete stranger. It would have been so easy for Louis to have kicked him out.

He'd spent money on Harry, buying him clothes. He'd been patient with him when others had not. He had defended him, first to Sheila, then to Tim, and then to that man, in the office. He had put himself on the line for someone he had barely known, unthinking of the consequences to himself. It was honourable, incredibly so, and it made a great swell of affection grow upon Harry's chest. 

"I just don't know what to do with him anymore," Liam sighed, and Harry understood.

"I believe you should forgive him," he said, a hand on Liam's shoulder, "And tell him that you will always be by his side."

Liam's face wrinkled into something Harry had not seen before: a smile. It was slight, but still there, crumpling up the edges of his beard. "You really care for him, don't you?"

"I care for _everyone_ ," Harry spoke, diplomatically, "But I want him to be happy. And I want him to know that-- it does not have to be on his shoulders. Not even Hercules managed to carry the world alone."

"Yeah," Liam nodded, and then, he frowned in concentration, "Yeah. That's-- that's a good point."

"I have been told I have many good points," Harry beamed, "Niall once said that I was an octagon."

"Why?" A new voice said, "Because you're 2D?"

They both turned to look, and there Louis was: admittedly beautiful, his suit still on from when they'd gone to Lyvoninsky HQ, his hair messy and his smile tired. The way his eyes lit up in relief made Harry want to kiss him. Instead, he settled for the next best thing.

"Louis!" Harry rushed forwards to hug him, "I missed you."

"Why?" Louis frowned, "I've been gone, like, two minutes."

"Twenty," Liam said, and he put a pen behind his ear, "Louis, I think we're about done for the night."

"Okay," Louis patted Harry's back, and let him go, "Cool. Thanks."

Louis looked set to leave, but before he did, Harry sent Liam a pointed look. Liam sighed, tugged at a strand of his hair, and said:

"Louis, wait."

He walked forward to where Louis stood and hugged him, awkwardly so. Over Liam's shoulder, Louis grinned at Harry with shock.

"What is...This for?" He asked, "Is this an angry hug?"

"Yes," Liam nodded, "It's also a best friend hug. Because-- I want you to know that..."

He seemed to struggle for the words, so Harry mouthed him along.

"-- You don't have to carry the world on your shoulders. You can talk to me," Liam said, and sent a grateful look Harry's way.

Harry grinned in satisfaction: his heart melting beneath the love in the air. Louis just seemed speechless, but he managed to clap Liam on the back in return, and they parted from the embrace, both glad it happened, and equally as glad that the contact was over.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the-- thing," he breathed, softly so, "It was dumb of me. You're right."

"It was dumb of _everyone_ ," Liam nodded in acceptance, "Just-- try and get some sleep, Lou."

Lou. Harry beamed at the nickname, and Louis caught him in the midst of it. He tugged on Harry's sleeve.

"Come on, then, you," he teased, and Harry followed his lead, "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"See you tomorrow," Liam called, tautly so, "The-- both of you."

They left the office, and Louis let out a giggle of surprise. "What was all that about?"

-

They spent the rest of the evening...quietly. Harry discovered YouTube, which was a blessing and an omen both. He kept interrupting Louis' tv spree with interjections such as: "Louis! She made a line on her face!" To which Louis would reply: "Eyeliner. It's cute, isn't it?" 

Somehow, it just ended up like that: Louis on the sofa, Harry against his leg, sat on the floor: his hair reaching Louis' knee. It was a peaceful moment, one that allowed Louis to relax, and just...Think.

And so he thought. A lot. About Liam, saying he didn't need to rest the world on his shoulders. Which was true. And yeah, he'd been pretty touched by Liam's impromptu moment of intimacy, but still found it hard to process such words of praise. In all honesty... He didn't really know how  _not_ to carry the world on his shoulders. He'd lived his whole life blaming himself for everything, and to shift the blame onto someone else just felt  _wrong._

When he'd expressed this to Harry, Harry had placed his finger on his chin, and said:

"Maybe it is not about shifting the blame to another. Maybe, it is just about forgiving yourself."

He was so right it made Louis angry at times. And so fucking smart it hurt. He thought over Harry's words that night for a very, very, long time, and wondered if he deserved to be forgiven for being so...Pathetic. If Colin's appearance that day had happened for a reason. And then, he thought about Harry. Thought about the prospect of Harry...Maybe not going back to Olympia right away. He thought about him staying. Staying in the apartment. Becoming one of the family. 

Because truthfully, looking at Harry then, Louis reckoned that he could live that way for the rest of his life. 

He certainly had adapted to human life well enough. And Angie loved the shit out of him, as well as Niall. Liam...was getting used to him. And Louis didn't really know where he stood with Harry, but he knew for a fact that he loved kissing him, and he loved having him around. He also knew that he'd feel a little bit lonely with him gone. The apartment...Had always been just him, before now. And Louis liked the idea of that changing.

He didn't realise Harry was gone until he looked down, and there came a noise from the kitchen. It sounded awfully like crinkling.

"Harry?" 

Louis stood up, and followed the sound. As it turned out, Harry was mellowly chewing on the floor, cross legged. In his hands was a packet of Pop Tarts, and he seemed to be having an exceedingly large amount of fun with them.

"Hello," Harry said, and grinned, "I like these pastries."

"Hey," Louis snorted, "Yeah. They're nice, aren't they?"

"It said that they would be served warm, suggestively," Harry frowned at the packaging, "But I could not find a resource with which to warm it. I attempted to heal it with my hands, to derive heat, but-- it did not work."

"So you decided to just eat it raw," Louis said, and then started laughing. "Harry, it goes in the toaster."

"It tastes nice this way," Harry argued, and continued to chew.

"I mean, it’s edible," Louis agreed. He took the remaining two, and placed them in the toaster. "But it’s not as close as good as the real thing. Look, right?"

Harry stood. Louis looked to make sure he was watching, and then flicked on the toaster, which glowed alight. Harry’s eyes widened, and he grew closer as Louis pressed the switch down, and the Pop Tarts lowered.

"They disappear," Harry commented, "What then?"

"They cook, kinda." Louis shrugged. "Well, not kinda. They go all warm and toasty. You’ll see."

Harry nodded, contemplative, eyes on the toaster. "I will see."

A pause. Louis placed his hands on his hips, and listened to the quiet, melodic hum of the kitchen.

When he opened his eyes, Harry was looking at him. Softly so, the contours of his face drawn in a calm sense of truth. It was a sense that made Louis trust him, suddenly, infinitely: he could fall into that face, go swimming in those eyes. Courage came upon Louis, with which he felt as if he could take on the world.

"Where did you go?" Harry murmured, and his face was happy, "Earlier?"

"Oh," Louis itched at his neck, "The other lawyer just-- wanted to meet for coffee. It wasn't anything special."  
  
"Did you know him?" 

"Meh, not really," Louis shrugged, "He was just someone I used to-- be friends with. It was alright, I guess."

Harry nodded, deep in thought. 

"Why, anyway?" Louis asked, and prodded him, "You're thinking a lot today."

Harry giggled and batted his hand away. "I--I like learning stuff about you." 

Louis smiled: he couldn’t help it. To his credit, he tried to fight it, and blushed internally, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. He coughed, hopelessly caught off guard. Hopelessly realising that he had a crush on the bastard.

"That’s...Uh," he struggled to hide it, "Thank you?"

"May I ask you something?"

"Uh, yeah, shoot."

"These lines, on your hand." Harry held Louis’ fingertips. "What do they mean?"

"The lines?" Louis frowned. "Oh, they’re...They’re scars."

Harry frowned, deeply. Louis directed Harry’s fingertips across the lightning-thin weave of the touch, paper thin bumps along the skin.

"We used to have a cat," Louis chuckled. "She used to...er. She had a scratching problem. It never really healed, for some reason. She was called--"

"Bipsy,"

Louis jolted.

"What?"

"Bipsy," Harry repeated, and refelt the lines of Louis’ palm. "She used to eat grass."

"Yeah," Louis said, wordlessly. "How did--"

"Us gods have many abilities." He took Louis’ hands between both palms. "Memory reading allows us to see into the eyes of mortals, touch telepathy allows us to view the mind. I can see fractions, sections."

"Is that how you knew all of that stuff about my mum, weeks ago?"

"Yes," Harry looked down, still surveying Louis’ hands.

"Sounds convenient," Louis admitted, nervous, "I mean, I just thought you were psychic."

"It was intended for us to review threats in the early ages," Harry’s voice was soft, his eyes gentle, "But now it is rarely needed. May I?"

Louis looked at him in wonder, and for the third time that day, fell a little deeper.

"Sure."

His touch was even gentler than his voice: the feeling like crushed silk. Slowly, gently, Louis felt a warm presence in his mind, unfurling, unwinding. And then, he saw Bipsy again: her black fur darting along the grass. He was six again: running along with her, feeling the wildlife against his skinny knees and the life in his eyes.

"I like this memory," Harry said.

"I didn’t even know it existed." A tear darted down Louis’ face: he couldn’t help that either. "Thank you."

"You are most welcome." Harry’s touch shifted towards Louis’ palm. "It was my pleasure."

"Why? Do you enjoy misusing gods’ gifts?" Louis chuckled, and wiped the tear away. "Isn’t there some kind of penalty involved for using it like this?"

"Belief in the gods has been limited for centuries. There is hardly a threat against us now, and no need for this gift. Many have forgotten." Harry brushed his fingertips along Louis’. "I have not. And I-- take pleasure in enjoying what they take so easily for granted."

"Like humans." Louis said. His heart was racing.

"Indeed." Harry bowed his head. “Humans.”

"Just so I’m clear," Louis let go of the hand, "What do you think of us? What’s your general review?"

Harry leaned back on the counter. "A prudent question."

"I know, it’s a difficult one. We’ve been trying to work it out, since, well, the beginning of civilisation." Louis chuckled, but the look in Harry’s eyes was fond enough to silence it. "I mean, you’ve probably got some thoughts."

"Humans...are petty. Greed and jealousy fuel those in power, whilst many suffer, and love is often pushed aside for this." Harry chose his words. "However, there is love. And that is something a great many gods have yet to discover, despite their long existence. Love redeems the human race, it makes it whole, makes the illogical logical. It thaws the cold and the bloodthirsty if it can be felt. And that is all I wish to do here. To make love felt."

Louis grinned. _Whoa._ And he couldn't fucking help himself: he leaned up, and kissed Harry on the cheek.

Harry became a pile of dimples, and his face flushed red, "I--"

"You're cute," Louis murmured, "Sorry. I just had to."

"I'm...Cute?" Harry beamed, "I was answering your existential question."  
  
"Yeah," Louis grinned, _"Cutely."_

The Pop Tarts popped up, and Louis gave them one each. Harry looked as though he was about to serenade him any second.

"Cheers," he whispered, eyes glistening with happiness.

"Hey," Louis grinned, and bumped their food together in kind, "Cheers to you too."

-

The next day was the least interesting of them all. Because it was the day before the first hearing, Louis and Liam closed their office for the day, and went to Niall's apartment, of all places. And when Harry said that one of the most interesting parts of the day was the change in scenery, he was not lying.

"Welcome to Hotel Horan," Niall said, grinning, "Take off your shoes before entering, wipe your fuckin' feet, and don't spill anything anywhere."

"That is an unusual set of rules," Harry had said, and Louis had cackled. 

"He's got a point, Ni."

"Shut the fuck up," Niall said, but he'd ruffled Louis' hair afterwards, so Harry did not take the statement to be of an antagonistic nature.

The next few hours were spent on Niall's carpet, going over the final parts of their argument. It was so boring that Harry resorted to leaning on Louis' knee to stop from falling asleep. Even then, with his face pressed on Louis' thigh, he struggled to find new things to occupy himself with. 

Eventually, Niall saved him from his pain. "Come bake with me, H."

It was safe to say that Harry enjoyed doing that with Niall much more than he did the procedure going on on the carpet. He helped Niall make a cake, and despite the fact that he beat the batter so hard it flew out of the bowl (three times), Niall still said he was the best helper he'd ever had.

"You're the next Jamie Oliver, I'm telling ya," he clapped Harry on the shoulder.

While they waited for the cake to rise in a device called an 'oven' (Harry personally did not know why it wasn't just called a heater, in all honesty), he thought about Louis. And he thought about bringing him to Olympia with him, after the trial. Even for a short while. He had become increasingly fond of him, and sure that the gods would love him as Harry did.

Not that Harry loved him, of course. But gods never tended to half-way anything as much as Harry did. They either did or they don't, they either loved or they hated. And Harry was pretty sure they could never _hate_ Louis.

"Niall?" He asked, absentmindedly.

Niall looked up: he had been lip-syncing to a song on the radio, but stopped himself. "Yeah?"

"I think I like Louis."

Niall snorted. "Well, I should think so. You've only bloody been living with him."  
  
"No..." Harry murmured, "I think I _like like_ him."

Niall's eyes went wide. "Oh."

"I...I don't know how it happened," he admitted, "But he is so soft, and kind, and lovely, and I think about kissing him all of the time. What-- what do I do?"  
  
"Holy shit," Niall grabbed his arms, and blinked, "I dunno. Don't you know what to do?"

"Ordinarily, yes," Harry mumbled, "But I have never felt this before, and I do not know what to..."

"Okay," Niall gripped him, "Don't panic."

Harry frowned, "I am not panicking."

"Okay. Whatever you do just-- don't. Because panic equals misunderstandings, alright?" Niall itched at his forehead, "Uh, fuck. And then you...uh..."

"Niall," Harry squealed, "Don't panic!"

"I'm not!" Niall said.

"You're panicking!"

"Okay, maybe I am," Niall shook his head, "Fuck. I'm just-- excited, you know? I don't even fuckin' know why I'm excited, I just-- Am."

"Yes," Harry breathed, relieved, "Those are my feelings exactly."

"We need help with this," Niall put his finger in the air, "Just-- just give me a sec."

He left the kitchen in a whirlwind, and Harry stood there for a moment, at a loss of what to do. Then, Niall came back with a book with an image of a blonde woman on the front.

"Okay," Niall huffed, "Mommy Ellen is gunna help us out here."  
  
He put the book on the counter and began to file through. Intrigued, Harry leaned over his shoulder.

"Ellen?"

"Yeah," Niall breathed, "Ellen DeGeneres. Aka the goddess of everything."

Harry frowned. "I do not believe there is a goddess of everyth--"

"Hey! Look!" Niall pointed, "A section on relationships."

He began to read, and as he did so, Harry's brow crumpled in confusion. "What is this?"  
  
"An advice book, you know? It helps people out when they've got problems," Niall nodded, "Okay. So. 'If you've got a crush, maybe do something to impress them.'"

"Impress them?" Harry frowned, "Like what?"

"Well, I dunno," Niall shrugged, "Dress up. Not like, a princess or anything. But do a little something to make yourself look nicer, and see if he notices."

"Does Louis like nicer?" Harry blinked.

"Who doesn't?" Niall continued to read, "And it says talk about your shared interests. What interests do you share?"

"I--" Harry blushed, "I do not know."

"See, these are the things ya gotta find out," Niall clapped him on the shoulder, "And it also says be nice. But you've got that down to a T."

"I have?"

"Dude," Niall looked at him, pointedly. "Have you seen the fuckin' way Louis looks at you?"

Harry paused for thought. "I...I never thought it was different."

"Ha," Niall smiled, "You're so fuckin' cute, you know that?"

Harry flushed and looked away, "That is what Louis said."

"Louis called you cute?" Niall's face went slack with shock, "Okay, so he definitely likes you back."

"How do you know?" 

"I just do," Niall batted a hand, "I know him. And I know he never says shit for nothing."

Harry bit his lip. "So...I dress nice, find out his interests, and be nice?"

"Pretty much," Niall shut the book, "And I think I can help you out with that first one."

-

Louis and Liam went over their plan until their eyes began to hurt, polishing every detail. Louis was pretty sure he could recite it in his sleep by the time the clock read 9pm, and he was pretty close to falling asleep on the spot. He was begging for something, anything, to come save him at that point.

Luckily, something came along.

"Louis?"

Some _one._ Wearing a deep blue velvet shirt, looking beautiful. Standing nervously beside the door, one foot atop the other.

"Harry," he said, because he could barely think with him in that shirt, "Hey."

"Can you help me with something?" Harry said, and when Louis met his eye contact, he flushed.

"I-- yeah," Louis looked at Liam for support, "Sure."

"Go ahead," Liam sighed, resting his face upon a law article, "I'm about to nod off anyways."  
  
Louis rose and joined Harry in the corridor, where he led him to Niall's bathroom. There, he'd stacked up a pile of cushions against the wall, and there was a mat on the floor on which rested many bottles of nail polish.

"I-- I don't know how to put them on," Harry admitted, bashfully.

"Oh," Louis said, and beamed, "Oh."

"Would you help?"

"Of course," Louis sat on one of the cushions, "Sure. Yeah."

He watched as Harry sat beside him and picked out a dusty pink shade. "I would like this one."

"Okay," Louis spoke, "Give me your hand."

Harry did, completely trusting, and fucking hell. His palm was so soft, as were his fingers: lanky, yet graceful, in every way. Louis mused that it was probably impossible for his hands _not_ to be of such a standard. Louis wanted to hold them to his face for the rest of his life.

As he began to paint the first nail, Harry giggled, and rested his head on Louis' shoulder. "You're good at this."

"I've only just started," Louis mumbled, "Don't give me too much credit yet."

"Is it one of your interests?" Harry asked, hopefully. "Nail painting?"

Louis laughed at the specific nature of the question. "I mean, I'm alright at it."

"But do you like it?" 

"I've got a shit ton of sisters," Louis grinned, "Five, to be exact."

"Five!" Harry gaped, in awe, "That is a lot."

"Yeah," Louis finished the first nail, "It's like. They made me do their nails all of the time, because I'm the oldest? So, yeah. I did."

Harry smiled against Louis' shoulder. "That sounds nice."

"It was," Louis looked at him, slowly, "Do you have any siblings?"

"Six," Harry closed his eyes, "Aside from my half-siblings, there is Phobus, Deimus, Harmonia, Hermaphroditus, Priapus, and Anteros, my twin."

"You have a twin?"

"Yes," Harry sighed through his nose, "He is the same as I, but the god of _requited_ love. He punishes those who scorn love and the advances of others, and avenges unrequited love."

Louis thought about Colin, and wondered if he was due to be punished for scorning him all those years ago. In a way, he guessed he had been: being shit enough not to land a case without sleeping with the client.

"So you're similar, then," Louis moved onto the next nail, "I mean, in terms of what your duties are."

"I suppose," Harry murmured, "My mother created him as I grew lonely, and as love must be answered if it is to prosper. He stopped me from growing up on my own, and is just as much my opposite as he is my mirror. Of all my siblings, he antagonised me the most. Yet, we are the same."

"You must miss him."

Harry laughed. "I do not miss his games. As I have a bow and arrow, he had a golden club. He used to threaten the older gods with it when they would not give him things. He was the son with which my mother grew the most irritated."

Louis smiled; the memory clearly meant a lot to Harry. So, he offered his own.

"My sister, Lottie," he said, "She used to ignore me on days on end. She used to put her hands over her eyes and shout- 'Where's Louis!' everytime I tried to talk to her. It got pretty annoying, but she could never keep it up."

"Why?"

"Well, I'd tickle the fuck out of her, for one," Louis said, and Harry began to laugh, "And well. We're brother and sister. She could never hate me, and I could never hate her."

Harry grinned and snuggled his head further into Louis' shoulder, "I suppose that is what family is for."

"Yeah," Louis spoke, and he finished Harry's hand, but held it within his regardless, "But I also think you can choose it. Who's in your family, I mean. For example, Liam and Niall are sort of family to me."  
  
"I agree," Harry mused, "Love comes in many forms."

Louis looked at him, and waited, and would have kissed him if Harry had looked up. But when Harry did not, he settled for reaching for his other hand, and beginning to paint the rest of his nails.

"This is very therapeutic," Harry commented, eyes closing, "I could fall asleep right here."

Louis began to laugh, "Please don't. We've got to drive home yet."

He did not know how the word  _home_ for the both of them had turned into Louis' home. But Harry did not even bat an eyelid at it: instead, he nudged Louis' shoulder with his nose, peaceful and pliant.

"Keep me awake, then," He suggested, "Talk to me."  
  
"About what?"  
  
"Anything," Harry's eyelashes fluttered. "Speak to me of anything."

"Uh," Louis paused, void of something to say, "Are you scared for the hearing tomorrow?"

"Scared?" Harry mumbled, sleepy against Louis' shoulder, "No. Are you?"

"I'm a bit nervous," Louis admitted, "But I think- I think it should be okay."

Harry opened one eye and looked down, seemingly to check if Louis' hands were shaking. When he found that they were not, he closed his eyes again, and nuzzled further into Louis' warmth.

"What are you afraid of?" He asked.

"Me?" Louis paused, "Uh, I don't know."  
  
"You don't have a thing?" Harry sounded drowsy against Louis' arm, "Like a thing you fear the most?"

"Uh, uhhh," Louis felt his own heartbeat increase, "Rejection, I guess."

"Because of what happened years ago."

"Yeah," Louis said, "I suppose it would be that."

_It's also why I can't tell you what's going on in my head right now. Because what if we're not on the same page?_

"You will flower from it, Lou," Harry mumbled, and his lips were barely moving from each other, "You will grow."

Louis smiled, bashful at the expression. "I--Thank you."

"I do not know what I am afraid of the most," Harry opened his eyes, slightly, and a flash of green appeared between his thick, dark, lashes, "Perhaps never going home. Not being a god anymore."

"I suppose that would make sense," Louis said, "It's all you've ever known."

Harry looked at him, expression filled with sorrow. "You are more than your rejection, Louis. You are so much more."

Louis sent him a sad smile in return. "I hope so."

"That is all anyone can do," Harry murmured, "Hope."

His voice was so soft that Louis couldn't  _not_ look at him, and so he did. They shared a small smile.

"I love my nails," Harry said, after a while.

"You're very welcome," Louis smiled.

He had not yet go of Harry's hand; Harry kissed him on the cheek, and that, it seemed, was that.

-

"It's gunna be fine," Niall kept saying, "It's gunna be fine. It's gunna be fuckin' fine."  
  
"Niall," Harry said, as they walked to the courtroom, "I am well."

"You're well?" Niall loosened his collar, "You're well? I can't even fucking breathe in here."

"Ni," Louis spoke, taking control, "Calm."

Harry smiled in deep satisfaction, remembering him saying the same words to Louis weeks before. But he had no time to be smug: the court was all around them, wooden and steely and unforgiving.

"Okay," Ni said, huffing his cheeks, "I'll see you all later, okay?"

"Yeah," Louis fist-pumped him, and the next thing Harry knew was that he was being squished in a hug.

"Good luck, pal," Niall whispered, against his chest, "Also, I had no idea how tall you were before now."  
  
Harry laughed. "Thank you, Niall. All shall be well."

Niall nodded, clapped Liam on the back, and then he was gone. The three of them stood outside of the courtroom for a moment, hearts in their mouths.

"Okay," Liam said, huddling them together, "Remember: this is just the first hearing. It's just setting out the perimeters of the case. Nothing serious, nothing outstanding. It's public questioning and outlines, alright?"

Louis nodded, so Harry did the same.

"Harry," Liam directed, face intent, "Remember what we said yesterday. When they call you up to the podium, go. Say the bare minimum. Don't say anything you don't feel comfortable with saying, don't lie, and don't reveal too much. Can you do that?"

Harry nodded once more, and Louis squeezed his arm.

"It won't last forever," he promised, "And I know it's going to be scary-- sitting across from them. But it won't last forever."  
  
"I know," Harry mumbled, and it was then that Louis' face tightened with annoyance.

Across the hall from them, a group of people were approaching. Harry watched as the first two people-- who he recognised as Tim and Sheila, walked into the court room, not even looking at Harry as they passed. He was grateful for that, but he did not anticipate the return of the man who had questioned him-- the man Harry knew, from before. He swaggered up to the three of them, and held out his hand to Louis.

"Good luck," he said, and Louis stiffly took the hand.

"Thanks, Colin," he replied, and Harry had obviously missed something. 

The man, Colin, sent Harry and Liam a clipped stare each, before walking into the courtroom. Harry wanted so badly to tell Louis that he knew Colin from years ago, but he could not find the words to. Instead, he looked at Liam, and asked-- 

"Is anything wrong?"

Liam looked at him, as if the answer should've been obvious. "There's some bad blood between those two. It runs years old. You can't exactly imagine Louis to be skipping that he's here."

"Skipping--?" Harry frowned, "Bad blood? What bad bloo--"

"We're being called in," Louis pressed, entering the conversation, "Good luck, everyone."

Harry wished to know the circumstances of which Colin and Louis had fallen out, because he could not help but feel as if something was ticking in his brain, and a grand conclusion was about to be reached...But things were moving so quickly. And the hearing was about to begin...What was it? What was his brain trying to tell him?

"Remember," Liam said, cutting through his internal monologue. "Stay calm. Don't lose it."  
  
Harry did not know what there was to lose. But, before he could say anything else, they were inside- and surrounded by the most strange aura of silence.

-

As first hearings went, it was not the strangest Louis had been in. He sat there in collected silence, listening to Colin give his prosecutor's statement, and listening to Liam give theirs. Harry was the first to be cross-examined, which wasn't surprising, considering he was the only defendant.

"State your name for the record."  
  
"Uh," Harry's cheeks flushed pink, "I am Eros, Xochipilli, Yue-Lao, Min, Siebog, Cupid, Harlithethius, and most recently, Harry."

He met Louis' gaze over the chaos, and Louis nodded.

"Most people know me as Cupid, though," he added, and Louis let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Alright, Cupid," Colin said, pen in his hand, "Where were you on New Years' Day, 1994?"

"Uh...London," Harry looked so lost in the midst of his little black suit, "I was near Sheila."

Sheila aggressively nodded from her stand. Liam sent Louis a reassuring smile.

"Please state the events as you saw them, that night?"

"Morning," Harry corrected, "It was the morning. But-- II saw them there, and I flew across, and I shot them with my arrow."

"Both of them?"

"Yes," Harry itched at his hands, and Louis wanted to run across the courtroom, sweep him up into his arms, and keep him safe from every form of harm, "In the heart."

"So when you shot them," Colin gestured with his hands, "Were you sure you made the right decision?"

Louis' jaw clenched, and Harry looked at Colin with a slight sense of annoyance.

"Yes," he attested, "Of course. I always do."  
  
"You always do?" Colin grinned, "So you don't think that forcing Sheila and Tim to fall in love was a mistake? If that's what you did?"

Louis didn't like the way it was phrased, but remained silent nonetheless.

"Love is never a mistake," Harry shrunk in his shoulders, "Ever."  
  
"Even if it ends in millions of pounds in debt, general unhappiness, and the losses of income?"

"Well-" Harry went red, "Yes."  
  
"And even if the people don't end up together in the end?" 

"Yes," Harry looked very uncomfortable, "It is always worth it."

"Okay, so let's assume that your love dart system is the real deal," Colin leaned forward, "How do we know that you didn't make a mistake in shooting both Sheila and Tim? Are you sure you didn't mean to shoot, say, anyone else present?"

"It was just them on the balcony," Harry spoke, carefully, "It could not have been for anyone else."

"But, say," Colin gestured, "You missed. Say that the arrow went where it wasn't meant to go."

Harry tensed.

"Has that ever happened before? Do you have any promise of reliability here?"

"I-- I've never missed," He said, and he seemed very unsettled. And paling, too.

Louis leaned forward in his chair: what was wrong with him?

"Never?" Colin pressed, "So you've never made a mistake in firing your little love arrows?"

"No."  
  
"Never hit the wrong person? Never failed in aiming?"

"No..." Harry began to grow very tense in his posture.

"I don't believe you," Colin said, "Not in a million years."

"He's trying to wind him up!" Liam whispered.

"Sheila," Louis murmured, and they looked at her face: she was sat there, in complete and utter glee of Harry's discomfort.

"And do you know what, your honour?" Colin looked to the judge's stand, "I think he has missed. I think he missed in shooting Tim and Sheila, and this means they're owed all sorts of compensation."

"No!" Harry's cheeks were all sorts of pink, mouth an uncontrolled riot, "That’s not true! I don’t miss! I’ve never--"

He froze. And suddenly, with him, the world began to still. The judge banged the gavel, the prosecution started to protest. And Louis, confused, slowly rose to a stand.

"Missed," Harry mouthed, almost like a plea. His tone, and expression were drawn tight, like he’d seen a ghost.

But his eyes were fixed on Louis.

-

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'd say i'm sorry, but...  
> [https://rhuubarb.tumblr.com/post/162639587883/cupids-defence-by-rhuubarb-length-92k]


	10. Chapter 10

 x.

 

Court was adjourned. The world spun on.

Louis, though? He was mad.

"Harry," He demanded, following Harry through the court's green-carpeted hallways, "What just happened?"

It shouldn't have gone wrong. His defence shouldn't have wavered; he should not have lost control of his emotions. Sure, Colin should not have pushed him, but Harry had never cracked like that before-- not like that. He'd left the courtroom with nothing more than a shocked look Louis' way, and since that Louis had been wondering, endlessly, what he had done wrong.

"Harry?" He called.

Harry was oddly silent, swaying in his pace, face void of expression. His wings, previously inflamed with anger, were missing, and all Louis could see of him was his back. They rounded another corner, and then, they'd reached one of the waiting rooms. In his haste to reach Harry, Louis hadn't even realised that was where they were headed.

"Harry--" he began, but he was cut off, as Harry opened the door, and slammed it closed behind him.

 _What? What the fuck was going on?_ Before Louis could even formulate a response in retaliation, the door had opened once more, and a very sad, and pale looking Harry, was all Louis could see. A dark formulation of curls tumbled across his eye.

"I can’t see you right now," was all Harry said, "I’m sorry."

And then: oddly, coldly, silently: he was gone. The door shut once more, like nothing mattered. Louis swooned with resentment, anger, frustration. Soon enough, it all melted into a gaping, consuming sense of confusion.

Harry hadn’t even looked at him.

-

Louis.

It was _Louis._

Hades, Harry was angry. Angry at himself, for not seeing it sooner. Angry at the clues having been in front of him all this time: Louis having been rejected by a boy, Louis' face upon seeing Colin, the awareness in Harry's mind of him knowing Colin from somewhere...It all added up to that. That guilt. That pain, soaring and sizzling, twisting within Harry like the worst of knives.

He did not know what to do. What to say. He kicked over one of the chairs and began to cry, clutching at himself with a sense of anguish that he could not put out. It felt like the inside of him was burning, and he needed to be free.

Free...

He looked towards the window, pushed it open, and then, he was flying.

Harry did not know where he was going, but knew that the peach-kissed clouds reminded him of home, and all the city had brought him was misery. He knew that he would never return home, because he had failed, miserably, as a god and a friend to Louis both, and the world was crashing down. He knew that he had nothing left to say.

The city was replaced with green, rolling hills, that seemed to last forever. The sight calmed Harry in it's simplicity, and so he landed in one of it's fields, his wings brushing against the wheat. He breathed, roughly so, and wondered why the human world had only ever brought him misery.

A rose petal landed in his palm, and he frowned, sitting up a little. Where did _that_ come from?

"Mother?" he asked, and his voice was cracking.

The wind picked up, and across the wheat, petals were drifting and bouncing, furling into a tornado of flowers. From it, Aphrodite walked, grander and more golden than she'd ever been, colossal in comparison to Harry's human form. 

"My son," she said, and the wheat moved, "My dear boy."

She reached down, and touched his cheek- her hand larger than his entire head. Tears escaped him at how real she felt, how close-- how much of home she reminded him.

"What have the humans done to you?" She mused, and her golden, celestial light brushed across his cheek.

Harry sniffed as she played with a strand of his hair. "Mother...I...I failed."

Her face was compassionate, "You could never fail me."

"My arrow missed. Years ago," Harry held onto her hand, "And now the people it missed, the people I failed, are those I am confronted with now."

"The fates have set this in place to test you," she said, and her thumb stroked his face, "It will prove your merit to the gods."

"Damn the gods!" Harry spoke, suddenly, and he stood from her touch, "Why are they doing this to me?"

" _Eros_ ," she spoke, warningly, "Zeus's word is absolute."

"I know that it is," Harry seethed with hurt, "But it pains me. So much. I damn his judgement. I wish to be with you again."  
  
"And so you shall be," she murmured, and tilted his chin up, "But something of you has changed."

"I..." Harry looked away, "I am _feeling_ something. For the first time."

"Many things that are unnatural occur in the mortal world," she shook her head, "We must be wary of them."

"No...It's not that," Harry closed his eyes, "I...I don't know if it is good. Or bad. But it is clouding my judgement and it is making this so much worse."

Aphrodite viewed him for a second, evidently not following. He sighed, and held her hand over his chest.

"Do you not feel it?" He pressed, looking into her eyes, "Mother, do you not sense it?"

"Love," she murmured, and she appeared horrified and resigned at once.

She stepped from him, and began to angrily pace the field. As she was so large, this did not take long.

"How can this be?" She asked, murderously, and the wind picked up in her rage.

"I do not know," Harry murmured, "I just know that I... I feel..."

"It cannot be so," she looked from him, "It must be some kind of a mortal trick."

"The mortals play no tricks on us, mother," Harry pleaded, "They live and breathe, just as we do. But they feel...So much more."

Her eyes met his, and strung with betrayal. "You are speaking as they do. You have been poisoned by their emotion."  
  
"Mother, I--" Harry threw his hands in the air, "It is not as bad as you think."

"Then how is it so?" She hissed, "How is this-- _Louis_ \-- any better than the will of the gods?"

"He understands me," Harry mused, voice quiet, "I do not know how, but he understands me. More than most on Olympia ever have."

"That holds no merit," Aphrodite turned her nose.

"You know that it does, mother," He pleaded, and walked to her, "You know that most up there do not think well of me. Even more so, after my expulsion. I never truly belonged."

"Your siblings were there for you," she accused, "They understood you."  
  
"But mother-!" Harry turned away, "I-- I want love! I deserve love! I want to feel what I make others feel! I want to--"

"You want to be like a mortal," Aphrodite sneered, "You wish to muddy yourself with their-- _emotion_."  
  
"I wish to be understood," Harry emphasised, "As every being does. As _you_ do."

"It is not right," she declared, and she crossed her arms, "You are a god. He is a human."

"That did not stop Zeus," Harry grumbled, bitterly.

"Do not take your grandfather's actions to be your own," Aphrodite scolded, "You are not one and the same."

Harry closed his eyes and turned away, stung. He felt humbled by her words, and not in a good way. She sighed, and walked into his line of vision.

"My child," she murmured, "You are lost. You think you wish for what they have, but you do not. You _can_ not."

"It's not true," Harry shook his head, "I wish to be-- _around_ him. I feel for him, mother. I cannot explain how, but I-- this--"

He reached for his heart, and listened to it.

"It is skipping for him and I," he spoke, "I felt it. Years ago, when I first saw him. I thought it was between him and another but-- it was for him and me. That is why my arrow refused to do my bidding, because it knew-- it knew that he was not destined to be with that other person. It knew that we would be drawn together. I do not know how, but it must have known."

"That may be true," she eyed him wearily, "But such a relation will never come to pass. And you know so."

"I have failed him," Harry spoke, "I caused him pain in attempting to intervene with his life. I-- I hurt him."

"Then you must know that he will not forgive you," Aphrodite spoke, "Humans are vicious and cruel. They know nothing of compassion."

Harry closed his eyes, and remembered Louis kissing him, as if the world was destined for doom. He looked down at his nails, and remembered how Louis had painted them: chuckling as they shared stories of childhood, Harry rested at his jaw.

He remembered Louis punching that man for him, and defending him to Sheila, and yes--  _of course_ he knew compassion. And for the first time in centuries, Harry looked at his mother and realised that she was wrong.

"You must use the mortals to regain your honour, and then you will be returned home to us," she pressed, huge hand on his shoulder, "All shall be well, and you will never have to interact with the mortals again, if you do not wish to. Another of your brothers can take on your duties. You will become my ward."

Harry did not like the idea of this, but he did not have time to protest, as she was embracing him, warm and tight and real.

"Do not cry for the mortal world, my son," she pressed, "It does not deserve your anguish."

"I will try," he murmured.

When he looked up, she was gone, a single petal left as proof she'd ever been there. He held it in his palm long until the sky began to darken, and the stars began to arise. He wished there was an answer for it all.

-

"So we're looking for a guy, about six feet? Something tall, with dark brown hair, and green eyes," Niall spoke, avidly, to the woman at the desk.

They were at the police station, of all places, because it was fucking eight o'clock and Harry had still not returned. Niall had gone into the waiting room to bring him a drink, and found nothing but the window open. That had been at nine o'clock that morning, and since then, there had been nothing. No texts. No calls. Just the empty, harsh feeling of confusion that was eating Louis whole.

The woman at the desk blinked, and began searching through her computer files. "We can't see anyone of that description on our list."

"Our list," Louis repeated, hands on his hips, "Your list of what?"

"Reported persons," she said, "Would you like to report your person as missing?"

"Well, I suppose so," Louis scowled, bitterly.

That was what Harry _was_ , after all. Louis could not wrap his mind around it. Why had he looked at Louis like that, during the trial? Why had he run away? He could have been in fucking Olympia again for all Louis knew, or being harassed by some idiot on the street--

He caught his reflection in one of the notice boards, and realised he was grinding his jaw. He stopped, abruptly so, and brought a pair of trembling fingers to his eyes.

"Louis," Liam said, softly so, "Maybe you should go home."

"I can't go home," Louis spat, "I can't. He's out there somewhere, and I-- I can't go home."

"If this is affecting you, then--"

"It's not affecting me!" Louis hissed, and Niall's mouth became a harsh line.

"We're doing all we can," he spoke, and his voice was wavering, "We want to find him too. You don't have to take this out on us."

"I know," Louis mumbled, and sat, "I'm sorry. I'm-- I'm shit."

Liam sat beside him. "Louis. You're becoming panicked."

"I just-- want to know if he's okay," Louis said, knee bouncing, "You know? Like even if it's just a text to say he's fucked off back to his home, or decided he doesn't want a trial anymore, or--"

"He is fine," Niall spoke, "I believe that."

Louis shook his head and sighed. 

"I just don't get why he freaked out at the trial," Liam mused, hand on his jaw, "I mean, did he realise something we didn't?"

There was a pause, in which Niall detailed a missing person's report to the woman at the desk, and Louis and Liam sat in silence. It was a silence in which the tension within Louis' body built, and built, until he could resist it no more.

He stood, and wiped his hands on his knees. "I'm going to go check my place again."

Liam stood, "We'll come with you."  
  
"No," Louis shook his head, and already began to leave, "You stay here. You-- You need to be here in case they find anything."

"Louis--" Liam scowled.

"Let him go," Niall murmured, and that was the last thing Louis heard before the doors shut.

-

Louis drove angrily, the events of the last few hours stuck in his head. Okay, so maybe his feelings for Harry-- and everything-- were going a bit haywire. It didn't excuse this. Didn't explain why he felt so much for someone he barely knew. Maybe it was the way they'd been so close the night before, huddled in Niall's bathroom.

Maybe it was the way Louis had began to think of him as something a little more than a friend.

Or maybe it was his face at the trial. White as a sheet, lips parted.

"Fuck!"

He entered his apartment with tears in his eyes. _Maybe is the way it's meant to go,_ he thought. _No matter how hard I try, or how many people I try to help, or how hard I try and make things better, they will always end up worse._

_I will never stop watching people leave._

He undid his tie and threw it on the sofa, unthinking. What he did not expect was to turn the corner and find Harry sat on the coffee table, expression mellow.

"Louis," he said, darkly, and Louis nearly fucking died.

"Holy shit," he gasped, holding his chest, "Harry-!"

"Louis," Harry began to stand, "There is something I need to--"

"You bastard!" Louis raced to him, and curled his fists on Harry's chest, "You-- dick! Where the fuck were you?"  
  
"Louis," Harry caught his hands, "Louis. Listen to me."

"You fucking idiot-- we thought you were fucking-- missing!" 

"You do not want to hurt me," Harry murmured, "Please calm."

"Don't you tell me to fucking calm the fuck down, we were filing a missing persons report, we thought you'd been kidnapped, or gotten lost, or--"

"I was neither of those things," Harry spoke, loudly so, "Please, Louis. Calm yourself."

Louis did so, if only because in the struggle, his hands had brushed against Harry's shirt, and-- well-- it was wet.

"You've been in the rain," Louis spoke, fresh with shock, "Harry, where did you--"  
  
"A field," Harry mumbled, "I know not where. But I was safe."

"A field?" Louis repeated, and his legs felt weak, "But there's no-- there's no fields in London."

"I do not know how far I flew," Harry began to lead them to the sofa, "But I was safe. You need not have worried."

"You flew off in the middle of the day and we shouldn't have been worried?" Louis' face twisted with anger.

"No--" Harry closed his eyes, and long eyelashes batted down, "That is not what I meant. I am sorry."

"Why did you go, Harry?" Louis begged, and he was truly losing the will to do-- anything, "Why did you make that face at the trial? What's going on?"

"I do not know if--" Harry sucked in a deep breath, "If I have the strength to tell you."

His eyes were quiet, and filled with sorrow, when they opened. Louis' anger dissipated into a strong, solid sense of concern, and his mind began to clear.

"H," he said, worried then, "What happened?"

Harry began to cry, and when Louis placed his hand on his knee he sniffed even harder.

"The last time I was here," he said, voice weighed down with grief, "It was eight years ago."

Louis nodded; not seeing the relevance. "I know that."

"It was when you were sixteen," Harry's face was torn with self-disgust, "You-- you confessed your love to someone."

Louis froze, his heart thumping in his chest, his fingers waving above Harry's knee.

"It was me," Harry said, and he placed his hand over his eyes, "It was me, Louis."

"I-- I don't understand," Louis mumbled, losing a grip on the conversation, "What are you saying?"

"I-- I was there," Harry shook his head, "When you confessed your love to Colin. In that-- that costume. I didn't know it was you because of it. I never thought-- that---"

Louis gripped his knee, "Why were you there, H?"

"I wanted to make you fall in love," Harry bit his lip, "I really did. I tried. I was called there, because of the skip in my heart and I tried. But it went wrong, I missed, and it didn't hit you, and-- it's all my fault."

"Harry," Louis said, stunned. But that's all he could say: his mind was drawn blank in shock, his brain still hopelessly trying to catch up.

"If I didn't intervene you might have been happy," Harry offered, "But instead, I caused you pain- I caused you so much pain, and I can't even begin to--"

He shook his head and looked down, furious with himself.

"I am so sorry, Louis."

Louis stood, and it felt like it wasn't even him that was standing. His brain was a thousand miles away, his body distant, and cold.

"I-- I need to--" he began, but the words would not find their proper places. "I need to--"

"I know," Harry mumbled, and he stared down at the sofa, "I know."

-

Harry watched Louis go to his bedroom, and shut the door. But he _felt_ him crying, felt it through the wall: the strangled, shocked, lonely sobs he was making. But Harry was at a loss of what to do. Or what to say. Instead, he turned on his phone, and replied to the first text he saw.

 _niall, i am well._ _i am within louis' home._

_however, i am not sure he is alright._

The response came instantly.

**Holy fuck Haz where were you**

_it does not matter. i am back now_

_what is a haz?_

**Haz like Hazza or Harry. Nicknameception**

**Thank God youre alright tho .**

**Is that taboo of me to say?? Fuckin shit sorry**

_it does not matter to me_

_your deities are your own_

Harry curled up on the sofa, and watched the rain fall against the darkening sky.

**How are you Haz whats going on**

**Do you need us to come over ? Its late but we can still do it**

_it is okay, niall_

_i am well_

**Whats wrong w/ Louis**

_i am not sure i can describe it._

**Shit is it that bad**

**Did you have a domestic**

_a domestic what?_

**A domestic. An argument**

_not specifically. he was angry that i was missing_

_and i told him something of myself that i should have realised weeks ago_

**What? That you're gay as hell for him?**

**Im sorry that was** **inappropriate**

**Did you tell him tho**

_no. instead, i told him the truth._

**The what now**

_that i am responsible for his pain with colin._

_as i am._

_because i was there when it occurred and i_ _misfired_

_and now i do not know where we are_

_the ellen book does not have an answer for this, i fear_

**Misfired? As in your arrow?**

**Da fuck**

_it did not hit him when it should have. it is my fault._

**So youre telling me that if it had hit em they would be together right now**

_they would be happy_

**Im not so sure about that to be honest Colins a bit of a creep**

**Did Louis tell you hes sleeping with Sheila**

_louis?_

**No not Louis Colin is. sleeping with Sheila I mean**

_i hope they find happiness together_

**Oh no its not for happiness . He just wants a job**

**Colins a slimeball**

**Not good for Louis at all**

**so maybe what you did works out after all**

A pause. Harry sat there, curled up on the sofa, with stinging eyes, and wondered if there was merit to Niall's point. Colin had been excessively intrusive towards Harry earlier, but Harry had no point of comparison to make in regards to the act. He had maybe thought that all lawyers were that way in court.

**Listen Haz I just spoke to Louis and he said he doesnt want us to come over, but you can always come to mine if you want**

**We can bake cookies and talk about shit**

**Not poo**

**Like anything you wanna**

_why do you make these offers to me?_

_i do not deserve them_

**No**

**You fuckin do**

**Youre my mate . and mates help each other**

**No matter what**

_are louis and i...mates?_

**Well . yea**

**always**

**Depends on what he said to you after you told him**

_he did not say anything_

_he went to his room_

**Ok thats good**

The sound of sobbing had stopped, and Harry leaned further into the sofa.

_how is it good?_

**Well it means that hes not that pissed at ya. otherwise he wouldve yelled and shit**

**Louis = impulsive oK so if he didnt yell at ya it means he doesnt want to**

_i want to see if he is okay_

**Its probably best to leave him for a little bit hes probably still absorbing it**

**Its a big part of his life this Colin thing ya know**

**How about you work on making it up to him instead**

_i cannot possibly do that_

_i have hurt him too much_

**No you havent you lemon**

**For a god you really are an idiot**

**A good one though**

**Now listen up theres a box of candles underneath the kitchen counter**

**Take it out .  Dont set it on fire or shit though**

**And I want you to take out that rice pudding shit from the fridge because he loves that crap and I want you to take it to his door because he hasnt eaten all day and I want you to give him the candles too because he loves candles**

**With a spoon**

**make sure theres a spoon somewhere**

**And basically  give them to him and then see what happens because thats what he needs to heal ok**

**They make him calm and thats the best thing for him right now if hes anything like i think he might be right now**

**ok?**

_okay._

_i do not see how this will help_

**It will**

**trust me**

**I know him**

**and I know he feels just as bad as you do so dont overdo it . just see what happens**

And, heeding Niall's advice, he did. For, despite all of his earlier rebellion, following instruction was something Harry  _could_ do.

-

Louis had fallen asleep by the time he heard a knock on the door. For a moment, he had forgotten all that had transpired that day, and looked to the door with an expression of mild confusion. But then, he heard Harry call his name- voice torn, weary, fragile- and he remembered everything.

Oh, God.

He crawled from his bed and answered the door, eyes still bloated from crying, brain still fucked in confusion. Harry was stood there in a very loose t-shirt, a tray in his hands, with many candles balanced around it's circumference. In the middle was a bowl, precariously balanced, and Louis wasn't sure the whole thing wasn't about to tip.

"For you," he mumbled, voice small.

Louis stepped forwards and inspected the tray. "Is that...Rice pudding?"

"Yes," Harry said, ashamed, "Niall said that you would like it."

He placed the tray at Louis' feet and began to shuffle away, but Louis stopped him. He held onto the sleeve of Harry's shirt, which was baggy around his arm, and tugged him back to the doorway.

"Stay," he said, and he was not entirely sure why.

"But--" 

"Stay," Louis let go of him, and picked up the tray, "Please."

Harry nodded, silently so, and followed him into the room. Somehow the mood was a lot more delicate, and intimate, with Harry there. He felt Harry's eyes on him as Louis placed the tray on the bed, and, realising how presumptuous that was, flushed pink.

"Er...You can sit," he gestured, and so Harry did.

For a moment they just sat there, both of them trying to figure out what to say. Louis beat him to it.

"Harry, listen," he spoke, fighting the tremor of his hands, "About what happened back then, it's not--I don't--"

He met Harry's eye, which was timid, dark, and ashamed. He hated that he'd made Harry feel that way, even for a second.

"I don't blame you," he spoke, eventually, "I could never have blamed you."

"But it was my fault-!" Harry enthused, "The bow, the arrow, it--"

"It wasn't you," Louis placed his hand on Harry's, "It wasn't. Okay? I don't hate you for what happened. I don't even dislike you. It just-- is what it is."

Harry looked at him, mournfully so. "I did not mean to cause you harm."  
  
"Again," Louis smiled, weakly, "Wasn't you."

"I would never have--" Harry gaped, "If I'd known--"

"What?" 

"I would have never have kissed you," Harry mumbled, eyes full and hurt, "I would never have put you through-- that sort of--"

"Harry," Louis leaned in, "I don't mind. Seriously. I'm over it."

"You are not."

"Okay, so maybe I'm not over it. But I'm very close to being," Louis promised, "And maybe you turning up was what I needed to fully let it go, you know?"

The words were so optimistic that they scared him, and although he was not entirely sure where they came from, he knew they were true. In the incurring silence he watched Harry struggle with no longer having the guilt, and mentally attempt to make it his fault once more. Louis stopped him in his tracks.

"And as for the kiss," he said, "I honestly didn't mind that either."

Harry flushed, despite his expression still being one of sadness. "Me too."

"So," Louis spoke, attempting to move on, "Let's just try and get things normal again, yeah?"

"Can they be?" Harry's face lit up with the prospect, but only slightly.

"I think they can," Louis smiled, softly. "Hey, have you ever tried rice pudding before?"

"No," Harry sent him a private look, "I have not."

"Well, it's super cool," Louis removed the clingfilm from the bowl, and handed him the spoon, "I used to have it all the time as a kid. It's basically all creamy and shit, and yeah. It's good."

"I am not sure," Harry sent him a smile, "But I trust your judgement."

"You should, on this one," Louis winked.

He watched as Harry took a small, calculated slurp of the pudding, and his eyes opened with delight. He really did have nice eyes, Louis thought. They were so pale, and so green, and filled with so much light. Now, they were filled with an uncontrollable sense of glee.

"Oh!" He said, beaming.

"Yeah?" Louis began to grin.

"Yeah!" Harry's smile was huger than Louis had ever seen it, "Louis- this dish-- it's phenomenal."

"Told ya," Louis took the spoon back and had his own.

Harry's chest began to heave with excitement, and for a while they just took turns eating it, and giggling at each other's expressions. But, after a while, the tone became quiet again, and Harry began sending longing looks Louis' way.

"What?" Louis asked, wiping the rice pudding from his mouth.

"Your eyes," Harry mused, softly.

"Oh, they're just-- swollen," Louis gestured, and grimaced at his body's stupid responses to everything.

"I did this," Harry mumbled. "I am sorry."

He reached over and gently touched the place where Louis' eyes had become swollen, and the golden glow emerged once more. It was warm, and blinding, and Louis leaned so much into it that when he opened his eyes again, his face was completely in Harry's palm.

"Oh," Harry spoke, surprised.

Louis reached up and held Harry's hand there, eyes closed. He wasn't sure of what he was doing, but he was sure of the fact that Harry's touch felt so nice there, like it was always meant to be. After a few seconds Harry's thumb drifted along Louis' cheek, experimenting, and Louis let out the smallest of sighs.

He could have sat like that for the rest of his life. He was sure all of his problems would've faded, like that, with a beautiful boy cupping his face with his hands, and the hum of his heartbeat along his jaw.

"Can we stay like this?" He asked, before his mind could regulate his words, "Just for a while?"

"Yes," Harry said. 

And so they did. Louis remembered everything in that time: the expression on Harry's face when he moved closer, the warmth of his palm on Louis' back as he hugged him. The feeling of Harry's chin on Louis' head; the perfect way in which he fitted onto Harry's chest. Somehow, the embrace was what he felt they both needed. To just be told that it was alright, to be told that it was not the end. That it was okay to slip up, every now and then.

To be told it was okay.

What Louis did not remember was falling asleep. But he remembered the way they lowered onto the bed, and the way Harry's arm moved, to accommodate for the shift in space. He remembered thinking:  _this is perfect,_ and then, there was nothing.

-

Louis awoke tangled in arms. He knew this because he had a dead leg from where Harry was pressing on him, and also because he was completely leaning on Harry's chest. He opened one eye, and found that Harry's arm was around his head, as well as the fact that Harry's hand was on his waist.

Okay.

 _This is awkward,_ he thought.

 _Sorry,_ another voice in his head said, and he frowned. 

"Harry?" He asked, out loud, because he was pretty sure he wasn't dreaming.

"Hmm?" Harry opened one eye, groggily so.

"Did you just--" Louis frowned, and shook his head, "Never mind."

 _Sorry,_ the voice said, again.  _I did not anticipate I would be this tired._

 _Are you--_ Louis struggled to think-- _Talking to me right now?_

 _Yes_ , the voice spoke,  _we are touching, so I can do this._

"You can hear my thoughts," Louis spoke.

_Yes._

_Only when I'm touching you._ _I apologise if it's intrusive. Your thought woke me up._

 _No, it's fine,_ Louis thought.  _Whoa. You're in my head._

_Is that okay?_

_Yeah, I mean, as long as you tell me when you're doing it. I mean, if you've done it before._

_I have not._

_Okay. That's--good to hear._

_Why?_  The response came back, flirtatiously so,  _Do you have anything in particular you'd want to hide?_

"Not really," Louis said, and realised he'd spoken out loud.  _Damnit. This is hard._

 _You are doing well._ _And don't worry. I won't pry. I'm just a little tired to talk._

 _I thought gods didn't get tired,_ Louis thought.

 _We don't, usually,_ Harry replied,  _But, then again, I have never dreamed before._

_What does that mean?_

_Our minds touched whilst you were sleeping,_ Harry said.

 _Whoa,_ Louis frowned,  _they can do that?_

_Yes. It does not happen often._

_So you, what,_ Louis shuffled,  _you saw my dream?_

_I shared it with you. On accident. Do not worry, what I saw did not make sense. Which is probably for the best._

_How's that?_

_Well, I have heard that sometimes humans have unsavoury dreams. Ones they do not wish to share._

You _got that right._ Louis smiled.  _What was mine, about, though?_

_It was...A birthday party. There were candles, floating, in the air. And a panda suit._

_Ah, shit,_ Louis laughed,  _That's from my twelfth birthday._

_Was it a good memory?_

_Yeah,_ Louis said, and paused,  _Wait. If I'm thinking of it does that mean you can see it right now?_

 _Quite possibly,_ Harry replied, and when Louis opened his eye he was grinning.

_You little bugger._

_I'm sorry,_ Harry giggled,  _We may stop this if you wish._

_How do we stop it?_

_You just have to stop touching me. Or, just think of me not being in your mind anymore._

_No, it's okay. I-- I kinda like it._

_I do, too. It reminds me of home._

_So the gods all talk like this?_

_In a manner of speaking,_ Harry thought,  _Our mental speech and verbal speech have always been one and the same._

_Explains the no-lying thing._

_Yes,_ Harry thought,  _It does._

_I mean, technically I can't lie in this state either. It's just all thoughts, right?_

_Yes._

_Er...Okay. you don't have to if you don't want to, but I mean....Technically, in this state, you could show me what your home looks like._

A pause. No response.

_I mean, if you want to._

_No,_ the response came, if not hesitantly so,  _I want to._

_You sure?_

_I was just caught back by the response. Nobody has ever asked of it before._

_Have you ever done this with anyone before, though?_

_Not anyone human._

Louis felt a flare of warmth up his stomach for a reason he could not explain, and Harry chuckled.

_You are sweet, Louis..._

_Shhhh._ He opened one eye, and poked Harry in the tummy.  _Show me._

 _This is Olympia,_ Harry thought, and then, they were there.

They landed upon a vision of pure beauty. The clouds were pink and bright, above and below, and their outlines glowed in every plausible shade of the rainbow. The ground below was golden, and from where they stood in a meadow, the land seemed to stretch on forever. In the distance were a plethora of temples, silver against the light, their outlines sparkling. The air was light, and blissfully warm as it whistled and swirled around them, the sky the palest of blues. 

 _It's--_ Louis thought, mouth open-- _Beautiful._

_Thank you. This is where my mother and I have a garden._

Louis looked over to see a giant, golden woman, sowing seeds above him. She was tall, very tall, and she had a flowing mass of hair which touched the ground, easily so, and was embedded with feathers. Her features were not definite, but they were attractive, and the realisation of who she was hit Louis like a ton of bricks.

 _That's her, isn't it?_  he thought, in awe.  _She's beautiful._

 _Yes,_ came the reply, heavy with longing, _I miss her._

 _Me too,_ Louis thought,  _I mean, not yours, obviously, but mine...You know._

Impossibly, a smile touched the contours of Louis' mind.  _I know._

They watched the scene together, and suddenly a tiny, fat baby began waddling in Aphrodite's footsteps, a pair of baby pink wings nestled on their back, and a basket of seeds in their hands.

 _Awwwwww,_ Louis melted,  _That's baby you._

 _I was not a very....good looking infant,_ Louis felt Harry cringe.

_You're adorable! Look at those tiny squishy cheeks! Look at those fucking curls!_

_Louis..._ Harry thought, and Louis thought he could feel him roll his eyes.

_Where can I adopt a baby you. Are there any more out there_

_Now you're just being silly,_ Harry smiled, and they watched a baby Cupid and his mother walk into the horizon.

 _That was cute, H._ Louis thought, and in real life, he squeezed Harry's hand.

 _Thank you,_ Harry grinned,  _Would you like another?_

The scene changed to one of roses. Roses, roses, roses, everywhere, from the floor to the ceiling. And stood in the midst of this were the most beautiful men Louis had ever seen. Aside from Harry, of course-- but, still. Pretty close.

 _This is our temple,_ Harry thought,  _and these are the Erotes._

 _Your family,_ Louis realised.

They shared Harry's eyes, but in varying colours, and every one of them had golden hair, aside from one. Louis realised that the one sat in the corner, by themselves, was also the one with the the dark brown curls and the pink wings he knew so well.

Harry.

_That's you._

_Yes._ Harry admitted. _I was not the most-- sociable of teenagers._

 _You and me both,_ Louis said.  _Who's that?_

He looked at one of the Erotes approaching the teenage Harry, and wrapping him in a hug. 

 _Anteros,_ Harry smiled.

_Your twin, right?_

_Yes._

Anteros turned around in the dream. "Shh, all of you!"

And yes, he really did look like Harry, but more golden, and slightly more aggressive in his stance. He had shoulder-length, golden curls, and freckles running across his nose and cheeks, but held the same pale, delicate skin.

 _You find him attractive?_  Harry thought, his voice soft.

_Of course I do. You'd be an idiot not to._

_Perhaps I should colour my hair differently,_ Harry thought, teasing.

_Oh, shh. You're fucking stunning and you know it._

Louis mentally face-planted.

_Didn't mean to think that out loud._

_You are adorable._

Back in Harry's memory, the Erote with golden hair to his waist rolled his eyes. "Why should we stop our conversation for you?"

"We were discussing whether Heracles will succeed in obtaining the girdle of Hippolyta," another said.

"I have wagered that he will not!" another spoke, excitedly so.

For some strange reason or the other, they all reminded Louis of Colin Creevey.

 _Who is that?_ Harry asked, curious.

 _It's a long story,_ Louis laughed,  _Don't worry. One day I'll introduce you to the wondrous shitfest that is Harry Potter._

"Eros is sad, can you not see that?" Anteros spoke, loudly so, and the rest of them hushed.

They crowded around the teenage Harry and held him as one. In his mind, Louis felt Harry's stomach well with pride, and longing both.

 _They seem so sweet,_ he thought, in consolation.

 _They are a pain,_ Harry smiled.  _But yes._

 _He seemed like he looked after you,_ Louis thought.  _Anteros, I mean._

 _He did,_ Harry's reply was soft.  _But he is not the only one who has._

The scene faded, and Louis opened his eyes to find that Harry was already looking at him, their hands now detached. For a moment, they just grinned at each other, like idiots: a whole world between their eyes.

"I am sorry, again," Harry murmured, "For what I did. Or failed to do."

"Hey. You got your voice back," Louis smiled, attempting to change the subject.

"The Colin issue," Harry was relentless,"I did not want to bring it up while we were linked, unless..."

Unless either of them pictured it. But it was okay. He squeezed Harry's hand, and mentally conveyed the words  _it's alright, honestly,_ in as many ways as he physically could. 

"This is cool," he said, aloud. And Harry cackled.

"We did not use the candles," he mused, and it was Louis' turn to laugh.

"Fuck the candles," he said, and shuffled further into Harry, "I got a cuddle and a cool fucking mind thing."

"A mind link," Harry spoke, and held Louis close, "The way you describe things, Louis, is truly..."

"Genius?"

"That is one way to put it," Harry laughed, diplomatically so, and he rubbed Louis' back. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure," Louis closed his eyes, at peace.

"If everything is okay, as it should be, then what is the purpose of all this cuddling?"

"I don't know," Louis closed his eyes against Harry's chest, "It feels good, I guess."

"Like kissing."

"Yeah," Louis mumbled, "Like kissing. And we've been through quite a bit these past few hours, I just thought it'd be nice to just-- chill."

"Chill," Harry repeated, and Louis laughed at the way he said it, "We are currently chilling."

"Yeah," Louis twisted in his arms, "Can I ask you a question now?"

"Of course."

"What were you upset about? In your memory?"

"Oh," Harry bit his lip, and smiled, "Pothos had stolen my arrow."

Louis snorted and rubbed his face along Harry's arm, feeling the calmest he had in days. 

-

Niall came around later that morning, rhubarb crumble in his hands and sweat on his brow.

"Thank God you're safe," he breathed, to Harry, and wrapped him in a hug, "Did you guys make up?"

They broke from the hug. Louis was in the kitchen, attempting to fit the crumble in his already stuffed fridge. He had bed hair, which was cute. His sleeves were  very lopsided, which was also cute.

"I believe so," Harry murmured, "We had a cuddle."

"Awww," Niall cooed, "You guys are fucking cute."

"Thank you," Harry put his hands behind his back, "But I do not know what to do next."

"Whatdya mean?" Niall frowned.

"Well," Harry swung on his heels, "I do not know how to make us more than mates."

"Well, did you find out some of his interests yet?"

"Not yet," Harry bit his lip.

"Well, there's a good place to start," Niall gave him a friendly smack on the arm, "He likes you already, you know. All you're doing is cementing his unwavering crush on you."

"I do not believe that is true," Harry flushed red, "But I will heed your advice nonetheless. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Niall huffed, "You know, of all the things I'd be doing this year, I never thought I'd be fucking giving a love god advice."

"Advice on what?" Louis popped his head around the door, and they both straightened up.

"Uhhhh...Advice on...." Niall itched his hands, "What to wear tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Louis raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Niall nodded, "We're planning...A...er...Lad's night. You, me, Liam, Harry."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Louis looked between them, "I mean, the last time I checked, Liam and Harry didn't really..."

"We have found a bridge," Harry spoke, happily, and both Niall and Louis glanced at him in confusion, "Er...A...Samening?"

"Understanding?" Louis asked, and Harry nodded.

"Yes," he smiled, "An understanding."

"Well, that's that then," Niall sent Harry a relieved wink, "Lad's night. Tomorrow. You in?"

"I guess it wouldn't hurt," Louis itched at his shoulder, and in doing so, revealed a very sharp looking collarbone. Harry wanted to kiss it.

"Okay, good," Niall clapped them both on the arm. "Well, I guess I'll see you then."

-

Louis spent most of the day rereading up on the court files, but at lunchtime, he took Harry to a cafe. Mostly, it was because he wanted to escape the apartment, but also because Harry's face was adorable at the mention of a banana split.

"There is pourable chocolate?" He asked, in complete astonishment.

"Yeah," Louis explained, "Kinda like sauce, but sweet. It goes over the top."

"This world is magnificent," Harry beamed, and Jesus _fuck,_ he was precious.

They sat by the window, the rain pattering down outside, their feet crossing beneath the table. Harry watched the rain and Louis drank his tea, and right there, Louis could pretend that there was no court case, or Sheila, or Colin or gods or problems. Instead, he could just look up, and see Harry waving at a dog outside, and pretend that he was there with his boyfriend.

Not that they were boyfriends, or anything. Or anything close to that. Louis just thought it'd be...Nice.

Okay. So he had a crush on Harry. So what? He was dimply and curly and pink cheeked and beautiful. And Louis couldn't stop thinking about kissing him.

"Louis, may I ask a question?" Harry crossed his legs, cutely.

"You just did," Louis grinned, and had a sip of his tea.

"Yes, but," Harry blinked, "Another one."  
  
"Shoot," Louis nodded.

"What is eyeshadow?"

"Uh..." Louis thought for a moment, "It's a form of makeup. It goes on your eyes."

"Makeup?"

"Yeah," Louis watched Harry's face light with curiosity, "It's stuff people put on their faces to make them look pretty. Or, prettier."

"What is the purpose?"

"Dunno," Louis shrugged, "It's just for fun, I guess. Why?"

"I saw it on the shopping channel this morning," Harry enthused, playing with his ice cream, "I thought it looked rather nice."

"Would you like some?"

"Like some?" Harry's eyes darted up, "Why? _Is_ there some?"

"Harry, there's a shit ton," Louis laughed, "In stores, and stuff. Like, it's there to buy."

"I would like to purchase some," Harry bounced, face live with excitement, "I would like to buy some now."

"Okay, okay," Louis laughed at his eagerness, and drank the last of his tea, "Hold up a sec."

Harry watched him tug on his coat and together, they stood. When they left the cafe it was still raining outside.

"Hey, come here," Louis ushered, "You're gunna get wet."

"What use will the mushroom be?" Harry wondered.

 _"Mushroom,"_ Louis repeated, and laughed, "It's--an umbrella. It's meant for this kinda thing. Rain, I mean."

He put it up above the both of their heads, and Harry cooed in wonder.

"See?" Louis smiled, and Harry shuffled closer to him.

"If we are not close, we shall not fit," Harry mused, and they paused in the street, stood chest to chest.

"Uh, yeah," Louis breathed, not used to the feeling, "I didn't really think this through."

They were so close. Harry's hair was wet; droplets falling from the weighed down, thick nature of his curls, and they were dripping onto Louis' face. Louis had raindrops falling from his eyelashes, which made it rather quite hard to see. But through them he could still see Harry, and Harry was beautiful. His pink, full lips were parted in a promise that Louis could not fathom, his eyes laced with a dream.

"Er...I..." Louis mumbled.

It was cold, standing there, but Harry was so warm. Louis had a strange desire to tuck his hands within the folds of Harry's clothing, to warm his hands on the surface of Harry's chest. He wondered what they looked like, standing there, on the street. He sighed.

Harry brushed a droplet from his cheek. "We should find shelter."

"Uh, yeah," Louis' brain wasn't working, "Shelter would be good."

"Louis," Harry giggled, "Are you okay?"

"Yes," Louis blinked, "I-- I just don't think you realise what you do to me when you stand that close."

He didn't mean to say it out loud, but he also didn't take it back. In response, Harry looked at him for a moment, warm contemplation forming in his eyes. Then, he brushed Louis' wet fringe from his eyes, and reached to take the umbrella handle.

"Then, it would be more efficient if I held this," he spoke, instead of stepping away. His tone was so dangerously flirtatious that Louis could've fainted on the spot.

"Yes," he breathed, angry with himself, "Uh...Yes."

Shell-shocked, he followed Harry's lead as they walked. It was difficult for them both to remain under the umbrella without joining in some way, so he linked their arms and hoped Harry would not notice.

He did.

"I like this," he said, squeezing Louis' arm, "It is nice."

"Uh, me too," Louis admitted.  _It almost feels like we're in love._

"Are we mates, Lou?"

The question caught him off guard, and so Louis turned to look at him. 

"Uh, yeah. Of course."

He could not help but feel confused by the expression. Somehow, what they'd been like over the past few days...Didn't feel very mate-y. He was pretty sure mates didn't want to kiss each other all of the time, or have cuddles on beds, or show each other the most intimate of memories. But maybe friendship had a different definition in the god world.

"I am glad we met," Harry mused, and when Louis met his gaze, he was smiling.

"Me too."

-

They spent the rest of that afternoon putting makeup on. And when Louis said  _putting_ , he meant  _Harry placing it everywhere but the place it was meant to go._ For example:

"Okay, Harry, lipstick does _not_ go on your forehead."

"But it looks so nice," Harry stuck out his bottom lip. He'd essentially scribbled his entire forehead in pink, which looked both terrifying and just...Strange.

"Okay, how about this," Louis began to wipe it off, "How about we give the lipstick a break and go for eyeshadow, right?"

"I already did that," Harry spoke, pointedly, and lifted up his arm.

He'd done a thousand little scribbles on his arm in green and blue. It made him look like he had mermaid scales, which Louis both loved and feared, as it did not look as though it would wash off easily.

"Ah, yeah," Louis commented, brushing his thumb along the skin, "It's beautiful."

" _You_ are beautiful," Harry smiled, and smeared some of it on Louis' nose.

"Hey!" Louis laughed, and Harry began to tickle him, "That's not fair and you know it!"

"It is very fair," Harry bit his lip, "You are not very made up yet."

He looked around for something else to put on Louis, while Louis just laughed.

"I didn't _mean_ the makeup," he mumbled, but there was no reply.

"How about this," Harry picked up a container, "Let's try this!"

"Highlighter," Louis sat down on his knees, "Oh boy."

"It makes things go shiny!" Harry grinned, in astonishment, and rubbed it along Louis' cheek.

Louis just sat there and took it, resigned in every possible way. He had to admit, it sort of felt nice- Harry's fingers brushing along his face. If he just told himself to forget the highlighter part, and the fact that it was never going to come off, then everything was fine.

"There," Harry declared, placing some in Louis' eyebrow, "Now you are pretty."

"Oh, fuck off," Louis laughed, and Harry began to cackle, "I thought I was already beautiful, or whatever."

"You are," Harry bit his lip, "I was just playing with you."

Louis flushed red, but beneath the highlighter he wasn't sure it was visible. Either way, Harry didn't seem to care.

"Do me now," He instructed, loudly, and placed Louis' thumb in the highlighter.

He shuffled forwards on his knees, and closed his eyes. Louis laughed, at first, but as he began dusting Harry's face with the stuff, he felt the moment deepen. Soon enough, it was...Almost intimate. _Too_ intimate. His breath caught in his throat as he felt Harry's skin, the tightness of his jaw, for the first time. He was so soft, in every possible way, and eventually the contact was less about placing the highlighter and more about just touching him.

"Am I shiny yet?" Harry asked, and opened his eyes.

He found a very fond Louis in his wake, no doubt border-drooling over how beautiful Harry was. Louis wanted to kiss him, so badly. 

"The shiniest," Louis breathed, and, okay, maybe it was little more than just a crush.

Maybe.

-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOI ITS HAPPENIng  
> [https://rhuubarb.tumblr.com/post/162639587883/cupids-defence-by-rhuubarb-length-92k]


	11. Chapter 11

 

xi.

 

Niall arrived at the door with a strange-shaped hat on, and confetti. Louis audibly sighed at both.

"Niall," he blinked, "Please tell me that's not the turkey hat."

"Sure is, baby!" Niall pumped his fist in the air, "Fresh from the last year o'uni."

"I don't know where you dug that thing up from," Louis walked out of the door, visibly grimacing, "But I think you should put it back there."

"For what reason was it buried?" Harry frowned, quizzically.

He followed Louis out of the door, and remarked that the latter looked very soft. It was seven o'clock, and the autumn night was quickly darkening, which meant the corridor lights shone white upon Louis' hair. He'd made some attempt to tidy it earlier, but had eventually given up to play with Angie. Harry resisted the overpowering urge to run his fingers through it, and bury his lips in the dip of Louis' shoulder.

Niall patted Louis on the back whilst he locked the door. "Haha. Louis threw up on it. Infamously."

"It's been washed since," Louis grumbled, "I mean, I hope."

His frown was helplessly adorable, and Harry wished to kiss it. He wished to kiss a many great things of Louis', and he could not begin to fathom where it all came from.

Niall just laughed as they walked down the hallway. "Anyway... You guys look great! Harry, I'm loving the shirt."

Harry looked down and beamed. It was a blue, sequined shirt that reflected the light onto the corridor walls around him, emulating a disco ball. Louis had laughed when he put it on, saying the reflections looked like tiny bubbles. Harry thought they looked more like marbles.

"Thank you," Harry smiled Niall's way, "I found it at the bottom of Louis' wardro--"

"At a store!" Louis blurted, "He found it at a store!"

Niall cackled and wrapped his arms around Louis. "You look _ravishing_ too, my chum."

"Thanks," Louis flushed, and hastily wrangled his way from Niall's grip, "I think."

"I'm so excited," Niall sighed, as they waited for the lift, "We haven't had a sesh in ages."

"I thought you said this was going to be a quiet pub thing," Louis frowned.

"And yet, you showed up in that jacket," Niall winked, "Oh yeah. We're definitely going clubbing."

Harry did not see what he meant, but he did like the shirt that Louis was wearing. It exposed his collarbones, and was accompanied by a denim jacket that Harry wanted to steal. At Niall's words Louis put his head in his hands, and ran short, delicate fingers through his hair.

"Fuck's sake," He looked up. "Harry, are you okay with that?"

"I know of the clubbing," Harry spoke, wisely so, "It is what ABBA speak of, many times."

"See?" Niall grinned, "Harry's down for it!"

"He won't be once he sees you drunk," Louis shook his head, and the lift doors opened, "Where's Liam, anyway?"

"Oh, he's meeting us there," Niall said, "For some reason, he didn't want to be seen with me with the hat on."

Louis sent a blank glance Niall's way. "I wonder why."

"I, too, am excited," Harry beamed, and placed his hands behind his back, "I have not yet 'pubbed' before."

-

Apparently, the act of 'pubbing' was to 'go to a pub'. Despite the definition being made up by Harry, he thought it fit rather well. The pub in question was semi-full when they arrived. Harry spotted Liam first; at the table nearest to the dartboard, looking grumpy in the corner. He looked even grumpier when he saw Niall's hat.

He made a start. "Is that--"

"Yes," Louis sighed, "Jesus. I need alcohol."

Niall plonked his hat down on the table, and looked over at Louis. "You buying?"

"Sure," Louis sent Harry a cautious look, "H, you want any, or..."

"I would like some," Harry declared.

"Okay," Louis nodded, and he looked over to Liam.

"Fuck it. Fine," Liam said, and reached to his wallet.

"Nuh uh," Louis grinned, "My treat."

"I hate you," Liam grumbled, and Louis cackled and jogged to the bar.

Harry sat down beside Niall, politely so, and placed his hands on his lap. He did not know what the proper etiquette was in regards to visiting a pub, or what one should do, or say. He thought he should begin by saying:

"I like your shoes, Liam."

Liam blinked at him. "Oh. Thanks."

"I like the socks," Niall winked, "What are those, Winnie the Pooh?"

"Winnie the Pooh is great," Liam hissed, and Niall made a face at him.

"Winnie the Pooh is a gay icon, and you know it," Louis said, with a tray of drinks in his hands.

"Jesus," Niall winced, "That was fast."

"The guy at the bar says it's on the house," Louis sat beside Harry, and began handing the drinks out.

"Oh," Liam scowled, "Why?"

"His sister was one of the people we got compensation for in the Cowell case," Louis smiled, and it was a beautiful thing to see, "Small world, right?"

"Amen to that," Niall spoke, and took a sip of his drink, "Ahhh. The Beer gods are with us tonight."

Harry craned his neck, looking around. It was only after Louis had stopped laughing that he managed to tap him on the shoulder.

"They're not physically here, H," he said, tears in his eyes. Harry wished to wipe them away.

"Oh," He spoke, and instantly cheered up, "That is good. I do not like them."

"Why?" Niall leaned on his hand. "What they do?"

"I do not know them all," Harry conceded, "But Dionysus once spiked my mother's ambrosia."

"Ohhhh shittttt," Niall cackled, "That doesn't sound good."

"It truly was not," Harry shivered at the memory, "Alcohol puts her into a strange kind of rage."

"Sounds like Liam," Louis snorted, and Liam kicked him beneath the table.

"I'm bored. Let's play darts," Niall stood, taking his glass with him.

"Oh no," Liam spoke, softly.

Louis was the next to stand. "I really don't think that's a good idea."

"Pfft. It's a good idea. It's a great fuckin' idea," Niall picked up a dart, and began to aim, "Don't be party poopers, you lot. Play darts."

"I do not see the poop," Harry whispered, to Liam, but he just sighed and stood up.

Harry watched with avid fascination as Niall aimed, and threw a dart unsuccessfully towards the centre. It landed at the bottom, and Louis patted him on the back.

"Beautiful," he said, "Just beautiful."

"I'd like to see you do better, you arsecrack," Niall slapped him on the butt, and Louis laughed.

"I do not understand," Harry came to stand beside Liam, "Why was it not beautiful?"

"The aim of the game is to get it in the middle," Liam spoke, "Usually, it's to get as many points as possible, but we're imbeciles, so I suppose we're playing it this way."

"What happens when you get it in the middle?"

"Well," Liam shrugged, "You win."

Louis' dart didn't go in the centre, but it landed not far from it. Niall blinked in surprise and wrapped his arm around Louis' shoulder.

"Okay, teams," he announced, "Me and Lou vs you two. Up for it?"

"I am up...For it," Harry exclaimed, equally excited and confused. He liked new experiences, but Liam did not look as enthusiastic.

"I suppose," he said, and crossed his arms, "Are you any good at aiming?"

Harry froze for a moment. It was only after Louis gave him a look that said  _Do NOT think about Colin, damnit!_ That he calmed.

"I am...Satisfactory."

"That's good enough for me," Liam sighed, "Okay, you dicks, pass over the darts."

"Oooooh," Niall wiggled his hips, "Louis, Daddy Liam said the d word!"

"I wouldn't laugh if I were you," Liam took a sip of his drink, "You're about to be annihilated."

Louis grinned, "Big words, Payno."

Liam raised an eyebrow at him, an expression even Harry found intimidating, before reaching out and throwing. It landed not in the centre, but closer to it than Louis' had been. Louis and Niall simultaneously groaned.

"Well, firstly," Niall raised a finger, "Louis and I have already drunken more than you two. So chug."

"Nuh uh," Liam blinked, "I'm the designated driver. I can't drink anymore."

"So we'll get a cab," Niall winked, and raised his drink up to Liam.

"You are a bad influence," Liam spoke, smiling, before taking an admittedly large gulp of his drink.

"Harry, you're next," Louis said.

He nudged Harry's shoulder, and Harry blinked in confusion.

"To drink? Or to throw?" 

"Both," Niall passed on the drink, and Harry weighed it up in his hand.

"I feel as though I should let you know I have a very high tolerance," he warned, and then he downed the whole drink.

"Jesus," Niall's eyes were wide in what Harry expected was both awe and fear both.

"I know, right?" Louis grinned, "You okay, H?"

"I am splendid," Harry smiled, before picking a dart up, and throwing it.

It landed on the edge of the centre, and Niall squatted in distress.

"You're fucking kidding me," he said, and Louis was cackling.

"I cannot help it," Harry murmured, sheepishly so, and even Liam sent him a firm look of approval.

"Right," Niall stood, "That's it. We all have to be smashed."

"Ni," Louis chuckled, "You can't just drink away our obvious shittiness at darts."  
  
"Hoe," Niall raised his arm, "Watch me."

-

The bartender's final straw was when Niall began putting the darts upside down in his mouth and pretending to be Dracula. Louis couldn't remember much, but he remembers the first few straws as:

  1. Harry asking a heavily pregnant woman if she wanted to join the game.
  2. Liam doing an awful Italian accent after a few drinks.
  3. Louis emitting a high-pitched shriek everytime he or Niall hit the dartboard. (After a few drinks it became hard to differentiate between Liam's foot and the red circle in the centre.)
  4. Niall beginning to call Harry "His sexy little minx."



Or wait? Was that fourth one just something that made Louis unreasonably jealous? 

Either way, they ended up being escorted out. By that point, it was reasonably late, and the air was so cold that Harry suggested that they huddle for warmth. And, the rest of them being exceedingly less sober than Harry was, they all followed his lead.

"We're like a centipede of love," Niall gurgled, and Harry broke out into a cackle.

"What a strange analogy," he commented.

"Analogy," Louis repeated, "Sounds kinda like anal."

Niall broke out into giggles. "Anal. Golly!"

"That does not sound like the word at all," Louis pointed at him, "You fibber."

"You're a fibber," Niall stuck out his tongue, "You said you were good at darts."

"I didn't say I was good at darts," Louis defended, "Liam said he was good at darts. Isn't that right, Li?"

Liam leaned against Harry for support. "Imgunnabesick."

"Oh," Harry said, in shock, "Oh."

Liam cockled over and puked on the pavement, and Niall held his nose.

"Are you alright?" Harry rubbed his back, "Liam?"

"Imgood," he breathed, "Imgood."

"We drank too much," Louis said, and for some reason, he felt very sappy. So, he gave Niall a hug, he gave Liam a hug, he gave Harry a hug, and then, he wandered over to the nearest lamppost, and gave that a hug, too.

Niall bent over double, laughing at him. "Louis, what the fuck are you doing?"  
  
"I'm giving things hugs," Louis stated, smiling at him, "Come join."

Niall looked at him as though he were the strangest person in existence. But even then, he ambled over to join him, and let out a blissful sigh.

"Harry, my guy," Niall gurgled, "Could you make this lamppost love us back, please? They're being rather unplatonic."

"Ooh," Louis grinned, "That's a big word."

"Unplatonic," Niall repeated, and sighed.

"Supersonic," Louis said.

"Stop with your Oasis fetish already, you dick," Niall swatted at him.

"Liam," Harry spoke, not even looking up at the lamppost boys, "Are you well enough to walk?"

"Yeah," Liam said, and leaned up, "Yeah. I'm fine."

It was weird, seeing them even slightly get on. But Louis was proud of them. Proud of his little babies...He let out a tiny sigh.

"Okay," Harry smiled, "Niall?"

"Yes, my love?" Niall swooned.

"Where are we going now?"

Niall thought for a while. "Clubbing!"

"Oh, no," Louis said, as Niall skipped on over to Harry and Liam, "We, we are definitely not...In the right mindset...For this."

"Let's go get laid," Niall announced, and helped Liam along, "You up for it, Payno?"

"As long as there's," Liam hiccuped, "No darts."

"Ha! See?" Niall grinned, "Liam's got his head screwed on right."

Louis rolled his eyes and joined them. "You're all idiots."

"I admit it," Niall did a little bow.

"Except from Harry," Louis linked his and Harry's arms, "Harry isn't an idiot."

 _Harry was also looking extremely hot in that shirt,_ Louis added, mentally. He hoped to all of the gods above that their skin wasn't touching when he did so.

Harry sent him the warmest of smiles. "Louis?"

"Uhuh," Louis leaned into him as they walked.

"I am slightly tipsy," Harry admitted, "Is that okay?"

"Huhn," Louis nodded, "Yeah. Sure. We're all tipsy."

"I'M DRUNK!" Niall screamed, into the street, and a few birds flew out of their trees in shock.

"Okay, so he's just drunk," Louis snorted, "Liam is tipsy and nauseous 'cos he's a lightweight. I've just got a massive crush on you."

Harry made a face, and did Louis say something weird? He didn't think he did.

"It makes you giddy," Harry commented, cheeks red.

"Well, uh," Louis shimmied his shoulders, "Giddy-er. Man, I'm going to regret this all tomorrow, aren't I?"

Harry laughed. "It is likely."

"Ah, well," Louis smiled, "Life is short. I mean, for you, it's not. You've like, got a looong way to go."

"Louis," Harry said, "I am immortal."

"I'm Liam," Liam offered.

"I'm drUNK!" Niall squealed, and Louis looked around for something to throw at him.

Unfortunately, they reached the club before they could even do so. Louis was glad they had Harry around, because none of them had their ID on them, and whilst the bouncer was gaping in the glow of Harry's beauty they managed to sneak on in.

"Whoa," Harry spoke, eyes wide.

There were flashing lights everywhere, and a massive mass of bodies, jumping and swaying to the music. As they made their way through the crowd they stopped and stared, mid-rave, at Harry, which made it slightly easier to navigate. After a few seconds everyone was back to dancing again, which Louis could visibly tell Harry was grateful for. His shoulders relaxed, and he seemed more than hasty to take a seat in one of the booths nearby.

"Okay," Niall said, "Imma dance."

"Drink some water first," Liam spoke.

"Are you sayin' that because you care, or because you want some fucking water?" Niall grinned, and Liam laughed at him.

"We're gunna go get some water," Liam stood, and the two of them ambled over to the bar.

And so it was just Harry and Louis left. Louis took off his jacket and put it on his head. Harry liked that, and laughed.

"Do you reckon they'll make it?" Louis said, referring to Liam and Niall. 

"Perhaps," Harry spoke, wisely, "Liam, maybe. Niall seems to be having a much lesser chance."

In the distance, Niall had tripped over a full, entire person. It didn't surprise Louis one bit.

"Louis, may I ask you something?"

"Mmh," Louis leaned forward, and rested his chin on his hand. Life was good.

"At...Gatherings on Olympia," Harry chose his words carefully, "Some of the married gods...Leave early."  
  
"Mhmh."

"They go into a space alone, and..." Harry blinked, "Have special relations."

"They fuck?" Louis grinned, "Really?"

Harry itched at his hands. "I always thought it would be fun to...To...Perhaps..."

He looked away. Louis, in the meantime, sat slowly upright, his brain catching up with the new information.

"Harry," he said, grinning, "Are you _horny?_ "

"Shh," Harry flushed pink, "Shh-!"

"Jesus!" Louis bounced in anticipation and excitement both. "Do you know what to do?"

"Of course I know what to do!" Harry gasped, and his cheeks went a deeper pink, "I-- I'm a god of love."

"You're absolutely adorable," Louis leaned against his shoulder, "That's what you are."

"I just--" Harry smiled, sheepishly, "--Would like to. Do it. Maybe. In one of my lifetimes."

Louis sat up. "So you haven't..."  
  
Harry just looked back at him, blankly so. "What?"

"You haven't _done it?_ " Louis was way too un-sober for this conversation. "Like, ever?"

"I know _what_ to do," Harry spoke, defensively, "And I've _seen_ it done. I've come close, I've just never had the-- time."

"You've _seen_ it done?" Louis gaped, "Like, through people's windows and shit?"

Harry laughed. "Not like that. I just-- the older gods, sometimes--They have very little privacy."

"Jesus," Louis commented, eyes wide, "That's-- they're your family."

"We tell them this. But they're always doing it," Harry spoke, sadly so, "Zeus and Hera are the worst. The ground shakes."

"You poor sod," Louis gaped, "Well, if you ever want to, I'm always here."

He grimaced at his words as soon as they'd left his mouth, and for a moment Harry just watched his lips, enchanted.

"I-- I meant--" Louis began, and he really needed another drink. He began looking around, heart racing, and his mind foggy with beer.

Even his own brain seemed to question him. _Yes? And what did you mean, Louis?_

He honestly didn't mean to let that bit of information out. That he was willing...To...Okay, so maybe he'd been thinking about it for longer than he would like to admit. But admitting it to yourself is one thing. Admitting it...To a love god...At a club...Whilst drunk...Was another.

He glanced over to see if Harry felt it. And of course he did, because he was Harry, and he felt everything and knew everything and oh goddamnit--

"Louis," Harry spoke, slowly, "I've never felt this way-- before-- about anyone, and--"

"WEE'RE BACK!" Niall called, and bashed his hand on the table.

Harry and Louis instantly jumped apart; Louis had not realised how closely together they were sitting. Thankfully, Niall did not seem to notice. He'd put the turkey hat back on again, and was looking between Harry and Louis with an avid sense of excitement.

"Are you serious, Niall?" Liam yelled, from behind him, "Come back to dance!"

"Well, _I'm_ back," Niall grinned, apologetic, "But _he's_ dancing. Come join."

"Ni--" Louis drew in a breath, and looked at Harry, who still seemed lost in the moment.

His eyes looked as though there was no other person in the world but Louis, and Louis felt a strange sense of tension building up in another, remote part of him...

"Come on," Niall raised an eyebrow, "It's not a fuckin' question. We're here to have a good time, baby!"

He took Harry's hand and took him to the dancefloor, and Louis had no choice but to follow. Suddenly, he felt a lot less drunk, and a lot more...Hungry. For what, he couldn't fathom. All he knew was that he very much wanted to kiss on Harry's neck, or discover what his thighs felt like...

"Wooo!" Niall grinned, as they ended up in the middle of the dancefloor, and he began shamelessly dad-dancing along.

Louis laughed at that, at least. But Harry was looking at him, eyes dark and infinite, his perfect lips parted. Fucking Hell, Louis had to have him. He just had to.

Harry must have had the same idea because they came together like they shared the same mind, and the next thing Louis knew was that Harry's hand was on his jaw. He remembered thinking:  _this feels good_ , and then he remembered leaning in a little. Then, they were kissing. 

It was slow and harsh and good. And Harry was all he could think about. They broke away as soon as it began, because Harry was tugging them backwards and away and Louis thought that maybe he was flying. He just didn't know. They ended up in the hallway to the toilets, Louis pressed against the wall, Harry's hands cupping his face. And the music was so muffled, and Harry felt so good against him...So so good...

"Harry," he mumbled, because his eyes were rolling to the back of his head, "Mmrf. Harry."

Harry had began to kiss his neck, but slowed when Louis spoke. "Is it okay?"

"Yes," Louis breathed, "Yes, yes. I just,"

He reached for Harry's face and held it, breathing heavily, and thought:  _I don't know what I'm fucking doing._

Harry's response came nervously. _Is that a good thing?_  

_No. I don't know. I just know that I've wanted this for ages, somehow?_

_Me too,_ Harry thought, and he kissed him again,  _ever since you touched my wings, on the balcony?_

_You haven't got a weird fetish about that, have you? Because if so--_

His thoughts were cut off as Harry palmed him through his jeans.

 _I don't,_ Harry's thoughts sounded amused,  _But, just for reference, I also do not know what I'm doing._

 _That's good,_ Louis held him tight,  _That's okay. We can be ignorant together._

Their noses brushed, and Louis gasped into the air between their mouths. He didn't know how much he needed it until it was gone: didn't know how much he lived and breathed for the feeling of closeness before it had been taken away.

 _This means nothing,_ Louis thought, desperately, _You know that, right?_

He was lying and he knew Harry could feel it. 

 _Yes,_ Harry thought.

It sounded hesitant, said too quickly to be true. Louis could feel it. But at that moment he didn't care, couldn't concentrate: Harry's tongue was touching his.

When they broke away, it was Louis' fault, because he heard someone coming down the corridor and they had to part to let them through. But they did not take their eyes off of one another for the entire duration of the interlude, and Louis' heart was hammering.

_Why did I lie to you? Why did I do that?_

"We can't," he said, frantically, "We can't do this here."

"Niall and Liam," Harry nodded, quietly.

"I-- I'll think of something," Louis spoke, and he wasn't entirely sure he could walk.

-

It took ten minutes to convince the bartender to make sure Niall left in a cab, and Liam too. It also took Louis a moment to realise he'd have to call them a cab, too, because Harry's hands were on his waist and he couldn't concentrate.

The cab driver was endlessly amused at them. "You guys aren't gunna get busy on the leather, are you?"  
  
Louis was looking at Harry, and, coincidentally, forgot to answer.  _I can't believe I'm about to fuck you._

"We will not," Harry said, politely, and shook his head at Louis' face.

"Sorry," Louis leaned into him, "You're beautiful."

"Lou," Harry giggled, lightly so, "Your seatbelt."

"Put it on me," Louis said, and it was meant to sound flirty, but it ended up sounding as though he had a weird car kink.   
  
Either way, Harry put it on him, and kissed him solidly on the cheek, to boot. 

"I-- I like this," Louis whispered, and Harry blushed.

"The same is true of me," He promised, and held Louis' hand to his heart, "See?"

"See what?" Louis frowned. 

" _Hear,_ rather," Harry closed his eyes, "It's my heartbeat."

It took a while for Louis to get it, but when he did, his face erupted in a grin. "Oh!"

"Yes," Harry giggled, _"Oh."_

"It's," Louis felt his chest, "It's for me."

"I am sorry it took me so long," Harry spoke, and Louis shook his head, "I have wanted this for a while, and--"

"No. It's me, I'm dumb," Louis mumbled, "I just...I kept telling myself that you're a god, and you're immortal, and that it was only the fact that you're literally Cupid that made me want to kiss you all over, and-- Holy shit. I can't believe this is happening."  
  
Harry grinned. "This is alll a dreaaammm."

"Jesus," Louis blinked, "Don't say that."

Harry just nuzzled his nose into Louis' neck. The bastard.

-

Things Harry knew:

  1. Louis was beautiful.



That was all. That was all he could think about. Was this the infatuation he imposed upon others? Were these the actions he caused freely? Because it felt so good to be experiencing them then, in the lift, in the corridor, pressed against the apartment door, in Louis' bedroom--For the very first time. It felt so good and he never wanted it to stop. He never wanted to let Louis go.

Louis tugged him onto the bed, and pushed him down, so that Harry was lying flat on his back. It was a strange sensation, but a good one nonetheless. He watched as Louis straddled his lap, and leaned down to kiss him once more; again, and again, and again.

He broke away, his fingers lingering at the opening of his shirt. "Why are we always drunk when we do this?"

"I am not drunk, merely," Harry kissed him, "Tipsy."

"Still. You know what I mean."

"Beings often build up silly resistances to things they fear," Harry guided Louis' fingertips onto the surface of his chest, "Alcoholic beverages tear them down."

"I notice you said _beings_ ," Louis grinned.

"Yes."  
  
"So you feel it too."

"Of course I feel it too," Louis began to kiss at his neck, "Louis, I've never felt anything like this-- before. It is natural for me to be scared."

 _Felt anything like what?_ Louis' thoughts tumbled out of him.  _Love?_

Harry was about to reply, but the feeling of Louis there was _blindingly_ good, so much so that his head rolled back in shock. For a second Harry could've sworn that he could not breathe.

"Don't be scared," Louis placed his hands on his chest, and leaned up, so that their noses touched, "Please."

 _I don't know what I'm doing,_ Louis thought. Harry did not know if Louis intended him to hear it.  _I'm lying to myself for you._

"As long as I am not alone," Harry murmured, and Louis smiled.

_I adore you._

"You're not," he nuzzled Harry's cheek, "I promise."

He began to undo Harry's shirt, fingers fumbling, and trembling a little. Harry held them, observant, and pressed kisses to his wrists.

_Your touch is ruining me. I can't even think._

"I'm-- way too un-sober for this," Louis admitted. "Whoever said drunk sex was a good idea was wrong."

"I'm not sure anyone ever said that," Harry laughed, and Louis rolled his eyes. "But if it is bothering you, I can purge it from your system."

"The alcohol? You can do that?" Louis' eyes were bright and warm, and his lips were red. Harry wanted to bite them.

_If I'm not drunk I can't blame it on the alcohol if it goes wrong. I'm losing myself to you._

"Of course," Harry brought him closer, and held onto his waist, "If that is what you want."

"I-- I just don't want to forget this," Louis whispered, and it was desperately hoarse, "If that makes sense. I mean-- last time-- I just remember parts, you know? I don't want to just remember parts. I want to be here, you- you know?"

 _I'm lying,_ Louis' mind said.  _I'm sorry._

 _I know_ , Harry thought, touching him, and then, Louis was glowing. He was glowing in the best way possible, his skin golden, a bright and warm light flowing from him. When the light faded, he was there once more, forever beautiful, but with a little more clarity in his eyes.

"I--" Louis began, and then he just leaned in and kissed him.

 _I don't want to be alone,_ his mind said.

 _You're not,_ Harry replied, and he began to tug up Louis' shirt.  _Not anymore._

_I just thought that after Colin, you know-- nobody would want me anymore._

_Louis,_ Harry thought,  _You are perfect._

He sat up and dotted kisses all over Louis' chest, and Louis gasped at the feeling of it.

_You are perfect, Lou. You are._

Harry felt tears begin to dot his own chest, and so he removed his own shirt, swiftly so, and just held him close. 

 _I've never felt this for anyone,_ Louis thought, and began threading his fingertips through Harry's curls, _I'm so sorry._

Harry cupped his face. He didn't know what else to do: Louis was sending him a thousand different signals, at once, and the air was so warm. All Harry knew was that he wanted him. Desperately. And he never wanted to see the look of fear resting in Louis' eyes, as if he had been backed into a corner with nowhere else to go.

 _Harry-- you're a god,_  Louis held him so tightly, _We can't--_

"Shhh," Harry mumbled, "Kiss me, you fool."

Louis, despite himself, laughed. And then he did.

-

Louis woke up...Warm. And guilty. He was laying face-first in bed, his hair tangled in the pillow, his legs dangling everywhere. He patted the duvet next to him and found nothing, and sighed. Had Harry left? Was it truly that bad?

He rolled over, and the rest of the memories from the night before began to sank in. He saw Harry's chest, above him, pale and soft and beautiful. He felt his hair, tugged in blind ecstasy, curly and real and wonderful. He felt his lips, as he had done before, sucking on his neck, dotting his face, pressing touches along his stomach.

No-- it was good. He remembered it being good. He remembered it all, because he wasn't drunk, and fuck--

He'd told Harry it didn't mean anything. Why did he do that? 

He groaned and put his hands on his face. Louis was an idiot. _Of course_ it meant something. It meant so much that Louis was actively scared of it. He'd never-- done it before. Not like that. Not where it mattered, not when he had an obscenely large crush on the person he was doing it with. Not when every murmur and breath Harry made into his skin felt like a dream. Some stupid part of Louis had hoped fucking him would make his thoughts go away. But he'd been wrong: they'd only made them stronger.

And now, Louis just wanted to spend every day of his life like that. With him, close and real and safe. Harry's hands on his back and shoulders, Harry's lips pressing wonders into his.

Fuck.

"Hello," a voice said, and Louis sat up on shock.

Harry was there, wearing Louis' jacket from the night before, and nothing else. He was carrying a tray with rice pudding upon it, and he looked incredibly perfect. Ethereal. Which made sense.

"I brought you some things," he spoke, happily, and sat beside Louis on the bed, "Rice pudding. And tea."

"You made tea?" Louis asked, and fucking hell, could Harry read his mind?

Well. Yes. He could. But that was besides the point.

"I do not think it is very good," Harry admitted, hiding his face between his shoulders, "It took many tries."

"I'm sure I'll love it," Louis grinned, and took the cup, "Thank you."

"You are welcome," Harry smiled, but it didn't feel completely...There.

"You okay?" Louis asked, and took a sip. Admittedly, it was rather... lumpy. But he was determined to finish it, and finish it he did.

"I...Am a lot of things," Harry spoke, after a while. He looked away from Louis, and watched the sunlight begin to creep up the room.

"Hey," Louis put his teacup down, and rubbed Harry's back, "Talk to me."

Harry rolled into Louis' touch, and sighed. "I don't know what it all means."

"What?" Louis came closer, "What means?"

"I know it can-- It can mean many things," Harry spoke, "Doing-- what we did. I really liked doing it. But I am not sure what it means for me."

A sudden impulse rose in Louis to hold him. So, with the reasoning that they'd pretty much done everything else, he did. He wrapped his arms around Harry's waist and held him, gently so, until Harry fell into him. They leaned back on the bed and Harry held onto Louis with a vice-like grip, as though he was the only thing keeping him together.

"I know--" Harry whispered, "I know that you would like it to mean nothing. But it didn't, did it?"  
  
Louis jaw clenched, and he closed his eyes. His thoughts were a muddled cloud of anger and frustration.

Harry turned in his arms, so that he rested upon Louis' chest, and he sighed. "I think we are thinking the same thing. But you're not ready to admit that it meant something, and that's okay. I do not know what to think myself."

"I--I know that I liked it," Louis stated, "A lot."

"Me too."

Harry spread his palm flat on Louis' chest. "Your mind is a hurricane."

"I know," Louis sighed, and held Harry's hand, "I just-- I don't know what I'm doing."

"It's okay," Harry spoke, and kissed his chest.

"I just know that when you do things-- things like that--" Louis took in a breath, "It does stuff to me, you know?"

Harry turned his face sideways on Louis' chest, and closed his eyes. The movement caused Harry's eyelashes to tickle his skin.

"You mean that," he said, softly.

"Yeah," Louis spoke, "And as for the thing-- I don't really know if it meant anything to me."

"You don't mean that," Harry spoke, even more softly.

Louis closed his eyes and damned the telepathy to the fucking skies. Harry chuckled.

"You're right," Louis spoke. "I don't mean it."

_I just don't think I can say it out loud._

"That is okay," Harry brushed his thumb along Louis' ribs, "It is okay, Louis."

_I just-- I don't know if I'm liking these things about you-- because I have a crush on you, or because you showed me positive attention, or if you really like me-- because the last guy I wanted, like thi-- I thought he wanted me too and I was completely wrong. And I'm scared of saying that I want you like that in case I'm completely wrong again. I don't want to be the boy in the costume anymore._

_You are not,_ Harry thought.  _You are so much more._

"It might take me a while," Louis breathed, "To-- figure it out. To define you-- I mean."

Harry looked up and smiled, flirtatiously so. "I did not know I was something to be defined."

"It's not--" Louis puffed his cheeks, blushing, "It's just something I do-- With everything. I have to know what everything is, you know?"

"Like a table is a table. Niall is a friend. The window is big," Harry stated.

"Yeah," Louis breathed, "Exactly, yeah."

"You do not know what I am to you," Harry traced Louis' bicep with his finger, "And it bothers you."

"Yeah. I mean-- Everything has to be in a box, otherwise I forget how far I'm meant to go, you know?" Louis watched Harry touch his chest, "You and me were one thing and now the lines are blurred. I don't know."

 _I do not know either,_ Harry thought, and he was smiling,  _human relationships have always been a mystery to me. But I know that you are lovely, and I would very much like to kiss you._

Louis giggled, and ran his fingers through Harry's hair. "You really think I'm lovely?"

"Of course I do," Harry lifted his head, as if it were common knowledge.  "You are the stars."  
  
"Well," Louis shuffled, cheeks red, "I--er--"

 _I would like to kiss you,_ Harry thought, and he smiled like the cosmos could not hold his happiness.  _Can I?_

"Yeah," Louis smiled, breathily so, "Course."

_You might as well. I'm already in too deep anyway._

Harry shuffled up, laughing. It took a moment for them to kiss, mostly because Louis started laughing too, and _fucking fuck he was fucked._

-

They made out, for a while. Eventually, Louis had to answer his phone, because it had been buzzing non-stop for the past thirty minutes and it could have been anything. He was admittedly reluctant to unpin himself from Harry's touch, however, because he'd discovered Louis liked it when he brushed the undersides of his arms when they kissed, and Louis had henceforth been in paradise.

It was Liam, as expected. While Louis answered the phone Harry leaned up, and began kissing his back whilst the phone connected.

"Li," Louis spoke, trying his hardest to concentrate, "Hi."

"Hey, Louis," Liam's voice was slow and groggy, "I'm not coming into work today. Just thought I'd let you know."  
  
"Yeah," Louis laughed, "I figured."

"Did you get home okay? I didn't see you."  
  
"Uh," Louis mumbled, eyes fluttering closed. Harry was disappearing beneath the duvet, "Yeah."

"Harry, too?"

Harry's mouth was doing obscene things beneath the covers. For a moment Louis gasped in shock, and then, he couldn't think.

"Louis? You there?"

"God, yes," Louis moaned, and nearly dropped the phone.

"Did Harry make it home?"

"Yes," Louis stated, softly so, because his lips were shaking, "He-- he did."

"Oh, good," Liam spoke, "So, uh, the court won't come into session until the final hearing."

Louis didn't reply, because he was writhing on the duvet.

"Louis?" The phone said, "Hey?"

Harry rose from beneath the duvet, momentarily, to move the phone back into Louis' hand. Louis had dropped it upon the pillow in his ecstasy, and groaned at Harry's expression. Harry was getting a kick out of this, he could tell.

"Louis?" 

"Yeah?" Louis shoved the phone back to his ear, "Saywhat?"

"I was saying how we don't need to worry that much right now," Liam spoke, "But we need to make sure there's no hiccups at the final hearing."

"Yes," Louis breathed, and watched Harry disappear once more, "Totally. Definitely."

Liam's brow fell over the phone: Louis could practically see it. "Are you okay?"

"Gnnngnnnn," Louis growled, "Yes. I'm fine. I'm just--"

He wriggled his hips and tried to concentrate. What were words? He didn't know.

 _Harry,_ he thought, harshly.  _You're killing me._

_You love it._

"I'm-- hungover," Louis managed, and shoved one hand under the duvet to tease Harry's curls. 

"Oh. Me too. We should probably rest," Liam offered, meekly, "Tell Harry--"

"Harry?" Louis hissed, and couldn't breathe. "Harry, for God's sake--Harry, Harr--"

"--He was good at darts," Liam spoke, "Wait, are you talking to him right now?"

"Gotta go," Louis breathed, and put down the phone.

"Louis, wait--"

Louis threw the phone off the bed and tugged down the duvet.

"I hate you," he said, directly into Harry's beaming face, and then he kissed him.

-

For someone who struggled to define Harry, Louis seemed spectacularly unable to quit him.

And so they kissed. In bed, against the wall. In the kitchen, when Louis was waiting for the kettle to boil. In the shower, with Louis' body covered in foam. In all honesty, they did not stop. Harry did not want them to.

Harry did not struggle to define Louis, because he was in an entire league of his own. He was not a friend, or a lover. He was more than that; something necessary, something obvious, like the sun, or the breeze. He was everything and anything, something Harry wanted more than anything in the world. In the end, he could not care about what Louis defined him as: how could he, when Louis looked at him like that? Or thought the kindest of things about him, when he thought Harry could not hear? He did not want to think about how long it would last, or if they would ever escape the bubble of bliss in which they had found themselves. He did not want to think about the trial, or Olympia, or his duty, or even his mother. He could not, because suddenly, he had been given everything he had ever wanted.

Louis was everything.

A god's downfall.

-

"Louis, what are your interests?"

Harry asked it while they watched tv, cross-legged, side by side. Louis was doing some work during the ad breaks, and Harry was weeping over Titanic. It was safe to say that there were tissues mounted around them by the time they were five minutes in.

"My interests?" Louis looked up, "As in, what I like?"

"Yes," Harry blinked, softly so, "What you enjoy."  
  
"Well," Louis teased, poking him, "Watching you cry to Kate Winslet, for one."

"You did not like that," Harry said, and held his finger, "You cuddled me."

"You were cute," Louis admitted, face red.

"I am always cute, apparently," Harry sighed, "Niall says it too."

"Well, I'm not going to disagree with him," Louis giggled, and wiggled his hand, "Can I have my finger back, please?"

"It's mine, now," Harry grinned, and began to kiss his hand, "I'm holding it of the hostage."

Louis smirked at Harry's words and leaned back on the sofa, "Okay, until what?"

"Until..." Harry thought, "You tell me what your interests are. Your _real_ ones."

"Okay," Louis blinked, "Well. I like the stars, and stuff."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Louis nodded, "Me mum bought me a telescope for Christmas a few years back. Haven't been able to use it much, but I used to."

"In your old house?"

"Yeah, when I was still at home," Louis snorted at the memory, "It was pretty shit, to be fair. We lived in the middle of a lot of houses, so the view was blocked."

Harry beamed, "We should try it now!"

"Can't," Louis sighed, "Light pollution. Anyway, it's still at my family house."

"Oh," Harry stuck his bottom lip out.

"When I next go back there, I'll get it, though," Louis offered, "You can come, if you like."

"You would take me there?"

"Yeah," Louis squirmed in a smile, "Course I would. Ni and Liam usually come, too."

"Why?"

"Well," Louis shuffled, "They're sorta like family. And I'm not saying you are, or anything...But it'd be nice. They'd like you."

"My family would like you...As well," Harry spoke, and he held Louis' hand between his.

"Is that so?" Louis raised an eyebrow, "Are they into short idiots?"

"Oh, shush," Harry shook his head, "You are nothing of the kind."

"I'm serious," Louis asked, "Would they really like me?"

Harry considered him for a moment, eyes deep. And then, he said:

"You are kind and careful and true. You are hesitant in the strangest of moments, and your quirks are compelling in every form," Harry squeezed his hand, "You do not disrespect the gods, and you have made me feel at home at a place in which I never thought I would."

Louis blushed and felt his eyes water. "Harry- I--"

"You are lovely, Louis," Harry persisted, leaning in, "I mean it when I say that. And I also insist that my family would love you as I--"

He stopped, cheeks red.

"They would _like_ you as I do," he amended.

Louis wondered why he did so, but then remembered: he wasn't quite sure where they stood either.

"You must miss them," he spoke, absentmindedly.

"I do," Harry replied, eyes down, "More than anything."  
  
"Harry," Louis pressed, turning to him, "I promise I'm gunna get you home. No matter what."

Harry smiled, and Louis placed his other hand in his. He squeezed, and suddenly got a flash of Aphrodite, big and bright in his mind. Louis frowned.

"Your mother?" he asked, mindlessly, "Why was she--"

Harry tore his hands from Louis' and turned back to the television, completely silent. Louis' confusion filled the gap where he used to be.

"Harry--?" he struggled, attempting to recall the memory, "Did you talk to your mum?"

Silence. Harry sat up straight, and seemed to be trying his hardest not to cry.

"I do not wish to discuss it," he murmured, "It is not-- the best of memories."

"Harry," Louis spoke, compassionate, and reached for him.

"Please, do not," Harry moved away, "Do not touch me right now. I don't want you to-- to see."

"What did she do to you?"

"Nothing," Harry spoke, distantly, "It is nothing."

He left, without a word, and Louis was left sitting there, wondering what the fuck he'd gone wrong.

-

Harry was quiet and debating all of the next morning. He smiled at Louis when they first saw one another, and promised him that he was okay. When he kissed him on the cheek, all Louis could feel in his thoughts was a calculated, purposeful silence.

He was hiding something from him. Why?

"I need to go into work today," Louis said, but the silence was driving him wild, "Need to do some-- court stuff."

"I shall come with you," Harry murmured.

And so he did. He didn't touch Louis in the car, or in the office. He just maintained a steady distance, and put a fake face on, like he was trying desperately not to confront something.

"Hey," Niall grunted, head on the desk, "Buddies."  
  
"Ni," Louis said, and he frowned at Niall's appearance, "Are you okay?"

"Still recovering," Niall mumbled, "Yes, before you say, I fuckin' know it's been a day. I just-- Fuck."

"I get it," Louis laughed, "Don't worry. Are you okay to work, though?"

"I'll be fine," Niall sat up, and puffed his cheeks, "Got some filing to do, I s'pose."  
  
"I can help," Harry offered, but it was quietly so.

Louis noticed how he was trying, subtly so, to be as far from Louis as possible. What the fuck had gone wrong?

"Oh, yeah," Niall nodded, "Sure. Thanks."

"I'll-- I'll be upstairs," Louis mumbled, and so he went.

He was hurt and detached for the rest of the day, hardly able to concentrate on his work. He tried his hardest to disappear into it, which he normally did, but he just-- couldn't. What had Harry's mother said to him? What did it have to do with Louis? Why wouldn't he let him help?

It was in the early afternoon that Liam walked in, a pizza box in his hands. "Hey."

"Hi," Louis said, and looked up, "What's that for?"

"Us," Liam placed it on the table, "If you're willing."

"But you hate pizza," Louis frowned.

"I do," Liam carefully rotated it, "But I also know that something isn't right with you, and I wondered if you'd-- like to talk it out."

"It's not me," Louis sighed, heavily, and took a slice, "But thanks. Yeah."

"Then what is it?" Liam sat on the edge of the desk, hands clasped, "Is it the case?"

"No," Louis looked away, "Well. Yes. Harry's just--"

"Harry?" Liam frowned, "What's this got to do with Harry?"

"I--" Louis' hands began to shake, "He's just-- He's keeping something from me."

"About the case?"

"No," Louis looked at his knees, "Yes. I don't know."

"Or about him? Personally?" Liam crossed his arms.

"I don't know," Louis said, "That's the thing-- I don't know."

"Well," Liam looked out of the window, "If he doesn't want to tell you something, it's not your business."

"What if it's about me?"

"Well, he's got emotions, hasn't he?" Liam shrugged, "Why isn't he allowed to have secrets?"

Louis fumed in silent thought for a moment, and Liam sighed.

"Louis," he met his gaze, "Everyone has things they don't want to share. Even if it is about other people."

"I know that," Louis spoke, "I just-- I want to help. He's being weird with me and I just want to help."  
  
"If you've done all you can, then that's that," Liam shrugged, "He's our client. It's our job to help him, but only if he lets us."

"Liam," Louis said, carefully, "I don't think it's about the case. At all."

"Well, then. It's not our business."

"I--" Louis shut his eyes, "I know that's true, but--"  
  
"But what?" Liam snorted, "Lou, you hardly know the bloke. He's a god, and we're going to send him back home soon? Surely it can't be that important?"

There lay a beat of silence, in which Louis shut his eyes and tried to stop the inevitable from happening.

He failed.

"Louis?" Liam spoke, shocked, "You-- You're not--"

"Liam--"  
  
"Please tell me that you-- You're not--" Liam gasped, "--Interested in Harry? In-- In that way?"

"I can't do this," Louis stood, "Not with you. I just-- I don't want to--"

"Louis," Liam grabbed his arm, "I'm not mad. I just want to know."

"Well, now you know," Louis looked away, "Please, Li, I don't even know what's happening myself. Don't look at me like that."

"How can I not?" Liam's eyebrows lifted, "Lou, you-- You need to stop punishing yourself."

"How am I?" Louis took a step back, "I'm just-- I'm trying to deal with it, you know? I don't--"

"You're fighting it!" Liam spoke, triumphant, "I knew something was up with you! You've been fighting the feeling!"

"You don't know anything!" Louis squealed, "Just stop with the third degree, alright? Stop!"  
  
"I can't stop. You're my best friend, Lou, and you've always been like this--"

"Like what?"

"--Around people you like! You've always given yourself too little credit!"

"I don't even fucking know what you're on about right now, but--" Louis turned away.

"Listen to me," Liam held his shoulder, "You-- You've always thought too little of yourself. Ever since that dickhead at high school. You've never let yourself feel, or admit, anything's anything more than a crush. But-- It's okay if it is. You know? it's okay if it is."

"I don't know if anything is okay, Liam," Louis closed his eyes, "I'm just-- there's no point. I'm gunna fuck it up, and he'll leave."

"That might be true," Liam pressed, "But you need to embrace it while you can."

"I can't!" Louis hissed, "It's already gone, most likely! He's already probably fucking realised what a piece of shit I am! That's why he's avoiding me, that's why he won't tell me--"

"Louis. Shut the fuck up." Liam met his eye, "You are more than worthy of love. It doesn't matter who the fucking guy is. If he wants to ignore you, then he can. But you're worth so much more than that. And not everything is your fault."

"You don't even know what's going on, Li, you can't--"

Words failed him, and he just sighed.

"We kissed, weeks ago," Louis mumbled, "We kissed, and two days ago, we--we fucked. We had _sex,_ Liam. I don't know what's going on with me and I don't know what I'm doing. I don't even know what to _do_ anymore, I just--"

"Louis," Liam said, and hugged him, "Oh, Lou."

"I'm sorry," Louis began to cry, "I just thought you'd yell at me, I know it was wrong but I just thought--"

"If you're falling in love with him it's not," Liam patted the back of his head, "It's not wrong at all."

"But the client stuff--"

"Louis," Liam laughed, "I'm a stickler for the rules, but I want to see you happy more than anything, you know?"

Louis nodded, rapidly, into Liam's neck.

"If he feels ready, then he'll tell you whatever he's not," Liam rubbed his back, "But he's not, he won't."

"Okay."

"It doesn't mean it's your fault, what's going on," Liam pressed, "Sometimes, the world is bigger than your feelings. It has to be."

"I wish it wasn't," Louis mumbled, "I just-- I wish things made sense. I don't even know what he means to me."

"Obviously, a lot," Liam chuckled, "But I think you need to take a step back. Things have happened quickly."

"Yeah," Louis breathed, "They have."

"And maybe for the good of the case, and everything-- you need a little space," Liam held his neck, "I mean, you've been sharing a house for ages now, and maybe you've just been put under his spell, I don't know."

"No," Louis shook his head, "It's not. It's not that."  
  
"But how do you know?" Liam asked, "This is why you need the space, Louis. You might not be thinking clearly."

He stepped from him, and Louis wiped his eyes. He wasn't usually this emotional around Liam. What the fuck happened to him?

"How about you stay at mine for a few days," he offered, "Harry can stay at Niall's. You both get some space, and we get to make things normal again, yeah?"

"Okay," Louis said. What he didn't say was that Harry  _was_ his normal at that moment, or that he'd miss him incredibly. Or that Harry didn't know Niall's flat like he knew Louis' apartment, or that all of his things were still at Louis' place. 

"He'll only be a call away, if you need him," Liam bargained, "And we can always stop it if it's too much."

"Yeah," Louis nodded, "Okay."

"Okay," Liam smiled, and held him on the shoulder, "It's not the end of the world, you know."

"I know," Louis sniffled, "Thanks, Li."

"Always," Liam said, and backed away, "Okay, I'll go tell Niall. In the meanwhile, finish that pizza."

Louis laughed, hoarsely so. "I won't have any problems with that."  
  
"Didn't think you would," Liam smiled, and then, he was gone.

The smile left Louis' face right away, and he felt, immediately, as though he'd just done something incredibly, terribly, wrong.

-

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't hate liam. he's trying his best.  
> [ side note: ya wanna join the cupid's defence group chat?? send me a message on tumblr :) ]


	12. Chapter 12

xii.

 

 

As it turned out, it was a very bad idea.

Firstly because Harry's face was a riot. Louis looked out of the window and saw him arguing with Liam downstairs, begging with Niall, and even crossing his arms in defiance. But when Louis came downstairs, his face was cold, impassive, broken. He wouldn't even meet his eye, and that wasn't even the worst part.

The worst part was watching him leave.

Harry packed slowly, carefully, and as though he were about to cry. Every step was filled with sorrow, and Louis hated himself as he watched Harry collect all of his very few belongings and wheel them into the hallway: his bow and arrow, his clothes, two bottles of nail polish.

"Hey," Louis said, stopping him.

He held out the bra as one last comfort. Harry took it, carefully so, and looked at Louis as if he had just condemned the world.

"Thank you for helping me, Louis," he spoke, and his voice was heavy with sorrow, "I am sorry that we have to part."

"This--- It won't be forever," Louis tried, but he didn't believe it, "It's just for the good of the case."

"The case," Harry repeated, stone cold. His eyes said  _yeah, right._

He placed the bra atop his crate of belongings and, wordlessly, followed Niall to the lift.

"Louis?" A voice said.

Louis blinked: he'd been staring at the closed lift doors for about ten minutes. Harry and Niall were long gone, and Angie was making whining noises at his feet.

He picked her up. "Yeah?"

Liam popped his head out of the apartment door, "You wanna come help pack? You won't need much, will you?"

"No," Louis mumbled, following him, "I won't."

Angie rolled in his arms, seemingly sniffed him, and whined again.

"What?" He put her down, "What is it, girl?"

She didn't run, like she used to when he placed her on the ground. She just sadly pawed at his feet, and whined again.

"It's not a temporary thing," he said, awkwardly, "He'll be back soon."

Angie glared at him and ran over to Liam. Louis just sighed and started to pack: apparently, he wasn't anyone's favourite person anymore.

_And who's fault was that?_

The second reason that it was a bad idea was because once they'd actually set everything up, Niall wouldn't return his calls. All Louis wanted to know if Harry had settled in all right, for fuck's sake. He stared bitterly at the phone until he fell asleep, and wondered how he'd managed to fuck everything up, so quickly.

The third reason why it was a bad idea was because Liam was hardly the best of company in comparison. Sure, he was Louis' best friend, and sure, his apartment wasn't that bad, but all Louis longed for was soft speech and slow smiles, dark curls and goofy giggles of the incredibly unfair variety. What he got was awkward, normal Liam. And sometimes, that was fine. Sometimes, it was everything.

When Louis needed Harry, it felt like nothing.

So he disappeared into work and mourned a relationship that never truly came to be. He sharpened their defence, played with Angie, ate, sleep, and showered. In that order exactly, with little variation. Sometimes, when he even felt like it, he'd just go to the office and see clients, because it was too painful to see a glint of glitter left in Angie's fur. If Liam thought this would heal him, he was wrong.

It spat in the wound.

-

"Lou, I'm heading out," Liam said, as he always did, around eight pm.

Louis didn't know he went to the gym, but apparently, now he did. He was becoming increasingly intimate about Liam's day-to-day business and increasingly bitter about it. On top of that, he had a headache from staring at files too long, and Angie had woken him up barking at fuck-knows what hour two nights before. In all honesty, he shouldn't have blamed her for his lack in sleep. He'd barely slept all week and he was pretty sure his tremor was returning. All it took was one bad thing to totally fuck up everything else.

"Louis?" 

"Yeah," Louis said, harshly, "Okay."

"You okay?"

"Yes. I'm fine," Louis lied through his teeth, "Have a good time, okay?"

"Okay..." Liam frowned, and left.

Fucking Liam. He was never that good with emotions. Even good ones. Louis leaned his head back on the sofa and ground his jaw. He needed stress relief, damnit. He'd reverted to work to help him get over Harry, but the extra work meant he was crabby and his eyes hurt when he got back from work, but if he stopped and started having fun he'd feel bad about Harry, and Niall wasn't answering his fucking calls, and fuck.

He was lonely.

Calling his family helped, but they tended to use their time with him just to pile their problems upon him, which meant he left that phone call pretty soon. He couldn't call Liam; he was at the gym. He couldn't call Harry, because Harry fucking hated him, apparently. And Niall was just MIA from the looks of things, except from when he saw him at work, where he was distant and polite. Which was just-- not Niall. At all.

And _fuck._ In his attempt to make things better Louis had ended up making them worse.

"What did I do, Angie?" He asked, as she walked on past him, "What the fuck did I do?"

He sighed and closed his eyes, desperate for attention, even if it was someone yelling at him, or slamming a door in his face, or fuck-- even slapping him. He felt like he deserved a slap at the _least._

**Hey sexy :P**

A text came through, and he frowned out of complete confusion as to who it was. Nevertheless, it was _someone_ reaching out to him, so he couldn't complain.

_who is this??_

**Martin**

**You know**

**Martin**

_i'm really sorry...i don't think i know you_

**Haha. man**

**We slept together a few weeks ago**

**Was fun**

**I had a water bed?? You gave me your number but you were a bit out of it.**

_oh. okay_

**There was that Sheila person on the news?**

Louis blinked in shock. He was the person Louis had slept with when he first saw the news report, about Sheila. It felt so long ago.

 _Oh hi, yeah. i remember,_  he typed. _sorry about that._

_how are you doing, martin?_

**im cool man :-)**

**wondering if you'd like to hook up again sometime??**

_no, sorry_

_i think i'm seeing someone_

He _thought_ he was seeing someone? Was Louis not entirely sure? _Fuck._ His hand continued to shake long after he sent the message, and for a moment, he just sat there, blinking at it. He didn't even realise Martin had replied until his phone buzzed once more.

**Kk man thats cool, i'm happy for you**

_i'm really sorry. hope you have a good night_

**You too man :-)**

Louis groaned into the sofa until he ran out of breath. What _the fuck_ was he doing?

**-**

They'd been apart a week and a half when Louis caved. He was worried, for fuck's sake, and although Liam gave sporadic updates on how Niall was, nobody ever mentioned Harry. Not even at work, where Niall was quiet, and Harry even quieter. Louis could never get either one of them alone, and the mood was miserable for it. Louis just-- wanted to know how Harry was. Wanted to know if he felt this-- stupid, awful feeling that Louis was, in every fucking part of him.

"I'm sure he's fine," Liam had said, over dinner. They were having pizza for the third time in a row and Louis wanted to cry.

"But Niall won't reply to my texts."

"Yeah, he's probably just run out of credit," Liam snorted, "You know him."

Louis did know him. And he also knew that Niall was shit at keeping secrets, and if he managed to ask him anything about Harry, that he'd spill, right away...

So Louis texted Harry. Directly. It felt like a stab in the chest when he did, like he'd given in to something that he probably shouldn't have. But he could not help himself.

_hey_

_you okay??_

There came no reply, which didn't surprise Louis. He sighed and seethed in self-loathing.

_im_

_im kinda lonely with you gone_

_did you get up to anything cool today??_

_i know youre not going to reply but_

_fuck_

_i fucking-- i know we dont know each other that well_

_but i miss you_

_i fucking miss you okay_

_just reply_

_reply once_

_please h_

_just send a smiley_

_nobodys telling me how you are and its killing me_

_i dont even know why it just is_

_And i feel so bad i just_

_i hate making this about me_

_i hate it_

_i hate it all_

_im sorry for all of these messages_

_in fact im sorry for a lot of things_

_i dont know what im doing and i thought this would help but its really not and nobody understands it_

_nobody understands me like you have and its so fucking annoying because i dont know you but even people ive known all of my life dont understand it_

_this feeling_

_its fucking awful_

_i dont even fucking care about the case right now_

_isnt that stupid_

_im a lawyer and i dont give a shit about my own fucking case_

_i didnt think id care this much but i did and i still do_

_and youre right im scared_

_about a lot_

_and i thought it would be better if we parted so i could figure it out but i didnt even think about what you wanted and it didnt help at all_

_i just don't know if it's too soon to be feeling all of this?? ive never had a serious relationship so ive never really known what is normal_

_the only real comparison i have is with colin_

_and you know how that went down_

_it went shit_

_and he left and im alone on the pavement and i dont want to be alone on the pavement but i keep putting myself there_

_because i keep thinking you will leave_

_im fucking stupid of course you're gunna leave . youre going back to olympia with your family and of course you are because that's the logic and right thing to do but i want you to STAY_

_i want you to stay and i pushed you out of view but its just made this so much worse and i am selfish for wanting you all to myself_

_i dont know if i want you because im falling in love with you or because nobodys ever understood me like this and i like being understood. but on the other hand im missing things about you that have nothing to do with me . like the way you talk and all of your little oddities like the way you cry sparkles and the things you say._

_like i was watching fucking reality tv and the stupidiest thing is i was sat there thinking "oh, harry would love this" or "harry would probably say something about that hat or wonder why people are wearing hats on their breasts" and fucking hell god above i just want it to be real and i hate everything_

_not you_

_i dont hate you_

_we're just kinda in a grey area at the moment and i made it so much worse than it had to be and i am so sorry_

_i dont know whether to tell you all this or to keep it to myself because it sounds like i want you to pity me and forgive me that way and thats not what i want i want to keep this to myself and shut the fuck up but thats never helped_

_i dont want you to forgive me because i dont fucking deserve it_

_but i also want you to hold me and fucking hell this world is unfair_

_im a dick_

_ill stop now_

_i cant stop saying sorry but thats all ive got to say i hate this_

_i hate this_

_im so sorry, h_

Eventually he forced himself to stop, and turned his phone off, because if there was a reply to come, he did not want to see it. He didn't want to see anything. He buried his face in his hands, crawled into the sofa, and fell into a restless sleep.

**-**

It was late, two days later, that Louis heard a knock on the window.

The sound was equal parts annoying and terrifying, as Liam had just left out, and, except for the presence of Angie, Louis was all alone. But Louis, feeling increasingly self-destructive and desperate for something interesting, followed the noise regardless. It was only when he approached the room in which the sound was originating, the bathroom, that he realised he probably should have brought a weapon with him.

 _What if it was a burglar?_ he thought, but then, he realised that they were multiple storeys up, and that thought was plain stupid.

He waited as the knocks increased in pace, and a strange, golden glow began to creep up from behind the frosted glass. Louis bated his breath and unlocked it, and for a moment, there was nothing but a rush of cold air.

Then: a scramble of limbs, in which Louis stepped back, startled, and a fully golden, naked man tumbled onto the toilet.

He exclaimed something in a language Louis did not understand and looked upwards. Beneath a tumble of blonde, glittering curls lay green eyes, pursed, full lips, and a defined nose. He looked up at Louis in shock, which Louis returned in reverse. He, for all intents and purposes, looked identically like Harry, but less pale, more glittery, and with a lot more hair in the mix.

"For what do you stare at me in that way?" He frowned, and his voice was tremendously echoed.

"You-- you're--" Louis blinked, and forgot to breathe, "Anteros."

"Yes," Anteros frowned, disgruntled, and began to brush a high quantity of glitter from his shoulders, "And who are you?"

"I--" Louis was genuinely, utterly, in shock, "I'm Louis."

"Yes, I know you're Louis," Anteros rolled your eyes, "But who are you to Eros?"

"Eros?"

"My Gods," Anteros placed his hands on his hips, "This really is not going well."  
  
"You mean Harry," Louis stumbled, "I-- I'm his lawyer."

Anteros tutted. "Har-ry? Hm. How strange."

"Why is it strange?"

"In his current form he is known as Harlithethius," Anteros stated.

"But you call him Eros."

"Yes," Anteros blinked, "Well, of course we do. Our Greek forms are considered to be of the highest degree."

"Oh," Louis mumbled, "Makes sense."

Anteros walked in a circle around Louis, looking him over, glitter consequentially falling onto Louis' shoulders and hair. 

"You are a rather beautiful specimen," he mused, "I can see why he likes you."

"I--excuse me?" Louis blinked.

Anteros touched his face, and lightly tilted his jaw. "Yes. A very good bone structure."

"I--Erm--Thank you?"

"It was not a compliment," Anteros smiled, and it looked weird on a face akin to Harry's, "It was fact. You should not applaud me for avoiding tales of fiction."

"Okay," Louis frowned, "Then I-- won't?"

The god walked past him and began looking around the apartment, looking terribly out of place in the midst of Liam's plaid furniture. He stopped, supernaturally still, and his eyes flickered from the ceiling to the floor.

"This is a strange cube," Anteros muttered, and flicked a long strand of hair from his eyes, "In which part does he reside?"

"Um," Louis really hated feeling dumb, "Who?"

Anteros sighed. "Eros."

"Uh...He's not here."

"What." Anteros blinked, and glitter fell from his eyes.

"He's not here," Louis tried to explain, "He's, uh, a few streets away."

"No," Anteros paced towards him, "That cannot be true!"

"Mate," Louis laughed at the absurdity of it all, "It is. I swear."

"The lens said he would be with you!" Anteros crossed his arms and tapped his foot, "This is irritating indeed."

Even that movement caused glitter to fall from his arms and legs. He was fully naked, as Harry was when they first met, but there had been a lot less ... _stuff_ coming from him. Anteros, in his frustration alone, had managed to build a tiny pile of gold dust in a three-metre circle around his feet.

"The lens," Louis frowned, "Whoa. What lens?"

"The lens of Aphrodite," Anteros explained, "It transports us to where our family is meant to be. Clearly, Eros is not abiding to it's wishes."

Louis could not believe any of it was happening, but then again, he was the one who'd agreed to defend a deity in a court case, so...

He clasped his hands. "I-- I can give the address of where he is, if you'd-- like?" 

"No," Anteros sulked, and sat down on the sofa, "It is fruitless. I only had enough strength for a few minutes, and my mother will soon find me here."

"You're not meant to be here?"

"On the mortal world?" Anteros sighed, "No. Not until the trial is over."

"So you know about that," Louis sat opposite him.

"Of course I do," Anteros blew a curl from his eye, "It's only been the topic of discussion of the entire kingdom."

"Oh," Louis mumbled. He didn't know what to say to that. "Well, are you going to be-- uh-- going?"

"I suppose," Anteros grumbled.

"I mean-- I could get you a drink, or--"

"I think I shall be fine here," Anteros muttered.

There was a pause, in which Anteros adjusted his hair, and the movement looked so much like Harry that Louis could have screamed. He had not anticipated that he would miss him this much. He had only known him three months, for fuck's sake--

"How exquisite," Anteros murmured, breaking the silence, "Your fingers. They shake."

"Yeah, it's sort of-- a tremor thing," Louis tried to explain, and fucking hell, he hated himself. He wasn't sure he was even functioning at all properly at that time, as though the entire world had broken.

Anteros reached for Louis' hands, and for some stupid reason or the other, Louis didn't think to move away. As he felt Anteros' presence in his mind, he realised his mistake all too late.

 _HOW DARE YOU?_ Anteros screeched, directly into his mind, and Louis immediately stood in shock.

"You sent my brother away!" Anteros said, torn, and stood.

"You read my mind!"

"Of course I read your mind," Anteros crossed his arms, "And I have half a mind to erase your mind, you- you--- cur! Who do you think you are-!"

"I'm sorry," Louis explained, "It wasn't-- it wasn't because I don't like him."

"He is in love with you-!"

"He's not!"

"Yes!" Anteros stomped, "He is!"

"We don't know each other that well, he can't--"

"Do not lecture me on love, you fool," Anteros grumbled, "I saw all."

Louis sighed and put his head in his hands.

"Three months isn't enough--"  
  
"I have seen people fall in love in minutes!" Anteros seethed, "Do not try that petty excuse with me."

"You're not from here, you couldn't possibly understand--"

"I am a god of love! I know it when I see it!"

"It's not real," Louis shook his head, "You don't understand-- it _can't_ be."

"Do you think this some game?" Anteros rounded on him, "Do you truly believe this is just one of my brother's spells? Because you know the reason, deep down, why you were not effected by him when you first met. Don't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Louis spoke, bitterly.

"I did not see it at first but now I do. You are destined, like the soulmates of old," Anteros pointed at him, "You feel for my brother, as he feels for you. You have become a god's weakness."

"And I'm meant to feel good about that?" Louis balled his trembling fists, "Because, trust me, I feel pretty fucking terrible!"

"You are falling in love with him in return, but you insist upon denying it," Anteros hissed, "You fear the return of the rejection you have avoided for years. You wish to preserve yourself from further hurt, and in doing so, have hurt him."

"Don't you think I know that?" Louis pressed his fingers to his temples, "I'm terrible. I know. It's pretty much a fact of the universe."

"You need to get over yourself," Anteros stated, "I am the god of unrequited love, and I will be damned if I feel it between you and my brother. Do you understand?"

"It's not love," Louis spoke, "I don't care what you think it is, but it's not."

Louis began walking out, but Anteros grabbed his arm on the way. His eyes pierced Louis' face.

"You allow any person into your home, for months?"

"Well-- if they needed it--"

"No," Anteros challenged, "You would not. Not a person. A god. Someone who could've easily been a madman."

"He needed my help," Louis shoved him off, "I gave it. So what?"

"Someone being sued for all of their worth. Someone challenging, someone unaccustomed to the modern world," Anteros' eyes narrowed, "Someone who could have very well ruined all of your personal relationships, as well as your career."

"He was alone," Louis tried, "I--I wanted to help him."

"Because you sympathised with him. Because you, too, have been alone. And you are more alike than you think."

"You don't know me."

"No," Anteros spoke, "But I know him. And I see the urge to flee within you just as it has always been in him."

Louis closed his eyes and listened to his own heartbeat, ricocheting, loudly in his ears. He just wanted Harry to make it all-- stop. To do something mind-numbing, like kiss him, or run his fingers through his hair.

Fuck.

Louis was starting to need him.

"You need to stop hurting him," Anteros spoke, "And yourself. Neither of you deserve it."

Louis stood in stunned silence, for a while. And then, he closed his eyes.

"It is true that I do not know you," Anteros spoke, softly so, "But I know that you must heal. You are in pain. You must go to the thing you want the most in this world."

He reached out to Louis' arm, and squeezed it.

"It's him, isn't it?"  
  
Louis nodded, and felt his jaw clench. "I'm so fucking stupid."

"You are not."

"I am," Louis murmured, "You said it yourself. I can't-- I can't admit anything. I'm-- I'm fucking scared."

"You are scared of being abandoned, yes," Anteros looked him in the eye, "But that is not stupid. If it has happened to you before, and it hurt, then you are bound to fear it. Now. Let me tell you what is to happen if you do _not_ find my brother once more. He will be heartbroken, and leave. Your worst fears will have both been accomplished, because you were too scared to approach him, and he was too polite to impede on what he thinks is now your happiness. When he comes back to the clouds once more, he will still love you, but you will have parted ways with him on bad terms and it shall haunt you. Forever."

Louis felt something change in his chest: _forever_ was a big word. Did Harry really-- feel that?

"I do not know how much time you have," Anteros advised, "But I know that you should embrace it, wholeheartedly, with everything inside of you. Because it is not often that gods experience love, and have it returned in kind. I know this first hand."

"You-- you had your heart broken?"

"No," Anteros tilted his chin up, "I'm the god of unrequited love. Now, put a smile on that face. You are to go and see my brother."

Louis laughed at the abruptness of it all, and wiped a tear away. "What if I say no?"

"Firstly, you do not want to," Anteros stated, "Secondly, my grandfather is lord of the sky, and he will happily smite you."

Louis snorted. "That's what he said. Harry, I mean."

"I know," Anteros spoke, wisely, "Now. You will give this to him, when you see him. From me."

He leaned over and kissed Louis on the forehead, which was as awkward as could have been anticipated.

"You will buy him flowers," Anteros advised, stepping back, "Roses, preferably. They were always his favourite."

"I--okay," Louis spoke, feeling his now glittery forehead, "Is the glitter--"

"It arises in my sadness," Anteros interrupted, and sighed, "It does with all gods. See?"

He pointed to a trail of pink underneath the coffee table, and Louis jolted. A trail of pink--

"Harry was here?" Louis gaped.

"Of course he was here," Anteros frowned, "Why else would I have been called here?"

"You said-- where Harry was meant to be-- was--"

"Yes," Anteros rolled his eyes, "But he's also been breaking in here every night to pet your dog."

Louis ran over to where Angie was sleeping, and noted that there were a few more sparkles on her stomach.

"He was here? Recently?" Louis gaped. How did Louis not see him? _Hear_ him? 

"You are rather unobservant for a human, aren't you? I was rather hoping to catch him," Anteros spoke, sadly, "But I fear my time is up."

"What do you mean?"

"I must flee," Anteros spoke, "Before Aphrodite comes. And, trust me, she will not be as fun as I am."

He walked back to the bathroom, and opened the window: sprouting large, pale blue wings, that brilliantly contrasted the gold of his skin. Before leaving, he turned back to Louis, and smiled.

"I hope you find what you are looking for, Louis Tomlinson."

"Uh," Louis blinked, "Thanks."

"Remember," Anteros pointed his way, "Roses."

And then, just like that, he was out of the window, leaving a bloody thick trail of glitter behind him. 

**-**

How long was two weeks?

The human answer was fourteen days. The god answer was a half of a cycle.

Harry's answer would be neither of those, because the two weeks he was apart from Louis were the longest in the world. He spent them moping and baking, the latter of which Niall imposed on him: "It helps to busy yourself."

It did not.

He slept even though he didn't need to, just to pass the time. And when he was doing none of those things, he'd be staring out of the window, wondering what on Earth he was meant to do. Or say. There was a strange hole inside of him for the first time, and he had no idea how to patch it back up again. 

Harry could not visit Louis, and he could not find the words to say. Any sentences that possibly formed in his head would only make things worse. For all he knew, Louis was happy without him. Louis was figuring things out. Louis needed the space more than Harry needed the comfort. And so Harry spent his days haunted by the things he had heard in Louis' mind. Haunted by the words his mother had spoken to him, the last time they saw one another.

_"You have been poisoned by their emotion."_

If he had, he was not sorry for it. He just waited, and believed that he and Louis would meet again.

-

It was on the Saturday of that week that it began to rain. It rained thickly, and loudly, and so much so that Niall found it hard to leave the shopping centre in which he had found himself. He sent Harry many sporadic texts explaining this, which Harry found amusing. What Harry did not find amusing was the large number of texts Louis had sent him days prior.

Harry had yet to make a reply.

Somehow, he did not know how to. It felt wrong to, especially after he'd gone to Liam's apartment the other night, and tried to make an apology. He'd gotten cold feet by the time he made the living room, because Louis was fast asleep on the sofa, and Angie had come to greet him, like a reminder of everything he'd lost. He did not want to disturb them, so he'd left.

It had haunted him ever since.

He sat there and watched the rain fall, and thought about Louis, and Sheila, and Niall, and Tim, and Colin, and Liam, and everyone inbetween. He closed his eyes and felt the rain drizzle down the window panes, and wished for nothing more to go home. To pretend that none of it ever happened, to be the blissful, ignorant god that he had ever been. He should have never come to Louis in the first place, he should have allowed Sheila to prosecute him, at least then he would have been forgotten by the world and allowed to return home--

A knock sounded on the window.

It was from the kitchen. Harry sat up, startled, and frowned at the noise as it continued. At first he thought it was a trick of some sort, but then, beneath the rain, there it was: a tap tap tap tap tap tap tap. Harry followed it, enchanted by it's random nature, and found that the window in question led out to the fire exit stairs, ones which ran all along the outside of the flat block. Niall's flat was not that high up, but if anyone climbed up those amount of stairs, human or god, then they would have been put through some considerable discomfort to do so.

"Niall, you promised that you had not forgotten your key," Harry said, and opened the window.

It wasn't Niall. It was Louis.

He was completely drenched and stood there in nothing but a t-shirt and jeans. His hair was stuck, slick, to his forehead, and in his hands were a bouquet of roses, flattened and battered by the rain. His eyes shone like nothing else Harry had ever encountered, and he felt a rush of emotions rage in the pit of his stomach: anger, frustration, guilt, happiness, concern, relief.

The latter took hold of him first, and so he tugged Louis partly through the window, and kissed him.

It was wet but it was there, and Louis was so cold, but he was also _there_ , close and real and good, and their noses brushed and reminded Harry of everything he loved in the universe. They stood there for a moment, partly crouching beneath the raised window pane, and it wasn't until Louis' wet hand came to rest on Harry's chest that he remembered their surroundings.

They parted with a gasp, and Louis closed his eyes.

"Louis," Harry spoke, voice heavy, "I am so--"

Louis seemed to anticipate the train of thought before it reached Harry's lips, and so he shook his head, water streaming from him.

"No," he begged, "No. I'm sorry. I'm sorry-- I did-- I did all of this, and--"

Louis leaned in and kissed him, as though that explained all. And, in a way, it did. Harry caught a burst of emotion and thought from the touch, a cloud of  _I missed you so much_ and  _I need you here,_ and Harry held onto his shoulders.

When they parted, Harry was damp from him. For a moment they just rested their foreheads together, some of Harry's curls beginning to drip, and a whole world of things, undiscussed, hung in the air.

"Louis," Harry whispered, "Oh, Louis. You're soaked."

He felt Louis' hair, his back, his shoulder. Louis laughed, breathlessly, with all of the humility of one who had just climbed five stories worth of stairs in the pouring rain.

"It's nothing," Louis said, "I mean, it's just water, innit?"

Harry tugged him inside, and over the counter, and Louis stumbled indoors. There was so much water dripping from him that it could have drenched a desert, so Harry pulled him in for a hug, and in the process, began to warm him.

"Harry," Louis mumbled, against his chest, "Harry, wait."

Harry stepped back and frowned, "Do you not want--"

"No," Louis spoke, itching his face, "No, it's not that, I just-- I had this whole thing planned of what to say, and--"

He held out the roses.

"These are for you," Louis said, "To-- to say sorry."

"I am as much to blame as you are," Harry spoke, taking them, "Please do not weigh yourself with this."

"I have to," Louis spoke, "You don't understand. I have to. It's my way of-- dealing with this. Please."

Harry healed the flowers to their original dry state, and placed them on the counter. They were beautiful, but Harry didn't say that yet, because Louis looked ready to explode in anxiety at any moment.

"I-- I've been scared of this ever since I was a kid," he began, shakily so, "The whole-- relationship thing. And Colin happened, and then yeah, I was pretty much scared of ever getting into anything like that ever again, you know? Like, I was determined to do stuff, yeah, but to never get my heart involved. Never. And that sort of worked, and I was lonely, but I got through it, and then you came along. You came along with your softness and your eyes and your hair and your smile and I was just fucked. I'd never met anyone like you, and I know it's partly because you're a god, yeah-- but I understand you. And, and you understand me. I think."

Harry closed his eyes and just listened to the words. It was easier that way.

"I'm not good at-- this," Louis spoke, "I'm just not good at admitting anything. I think I'm so afraid of letting people know how much of a twat I am that I do so anyway. Like-- I feel things. And I can't stop them. And I try my hardest to, and it just hurts everyone around me. And when you-- when you stopped talking to me I just-- I thought I'd hurt you and I thought you were abandoning me. I was waiting for it, you know? I was waiting for something to go wrong because something always does, and nothing ever goes right for me. And I kept waiting for you to leave because Colin left and I was wrong about him and I kept waiting to be wrong about you. I hate being wrong. I hate being wrong so, so fucking much. And I was wrong about you in the fact that I thought you would abandon me, and I chose wrong, and instead of just accepting that I pushed you away and I'm just so selfish, Harry? Honestly. I'm so selfish and I don't deserve you. I don't deserve you because you are so kind and so lovely and so sweet. And I can't even stop to fathom why someone like you would even give me the time of day, even if it was just for a case. Even if it was just so you can go home. I was fine with you just using me for that, I was fine with it all, but then you didn't want to just use me for that, and I just got carried away in how good it was, and--"

Harry took a step forwards. "Louis."

"I-- I just--" Louis' chest heaved, "I sent the texts and I didn't know how else to approach this but--"

He took a step forwards too, still dripping on the floor, and clenched his fists. They were trembling.

"I-- I think I'm falling in love with you."

Harry took another step forwards and cupped either side of Louis' face. He wanted to kiss him so badly, but he also wanted to look him in the eyes, but that was difficult because he was crying, and--

Louis laughed, breathlessly, against Harry's touch, "Please don't cry. I'll cry."

"I cannot help it," Harry bit his lip.

"Fuck," Louis snorted, and he rose his hands to wipe his eyes, "There's more."

"There is more what?" Harry held their faces close, "I do not think I can take any more."

"Me neither, but," Louis closed his eyes, "I wanna try this. If you want. The _you and me_ thing."

"I did not know there was a thing," Harry smiled, just a little.

"Me neither, but," Louis rose his hands to grip Harry's, "I-- I think there's a thing now."

"It felt strange when you were gone," Harry murmured, "Like, a hole, in here."

He pointed to his heart and Louis nodded, rapidly, more tears coming down.

"Yeah," he murmured, face scrumpling in upset, "Exactly. That's the thing. I-- I'm so sorry. I -- I felt it too. I fucking felt it."

He closed his eyes and let out a shivering breath.

"I, uh," Louis' eyelashes were long and dripping, "I know we haven't known each other long, but--"

His thoughts said  _you feel like someone I've known my whole life, and maybe that's why I cannot bear the thought of losing you, and I know you're going away soon but_

"Louis," Harry brushed his hair from his eyes, "It is fine."

"It's fine?" Louis' chest heaved, and his eyes were incredibly red. "You--you feel the same?"

"Yes," Harry murmured, "Oh, Louis."

Louis let out another embarrassed chuckle as Harry kissed his cheek: hard and steady.

"You should not have come out in the rain," He mumbled, against Louis' skin.

"Some people are worth it," Louis replied, and Harry kissed him harder, "It did kill me legs, though."

Harry stepped back, alarmed, and immediately ready to heal him, but Louis giggled harder at the movement.

"I'm fine, H, it's okay," he spoke, cheeks red, "It's metaphorical."

Harry watched Louis' knees suspiciously for a moment before backing off, satisfied that he was not in any real harm.

"May I say a few things?" He asked, suddenly nervous.

"Yeah," Louis nodded, rapidly, "Uh, sure."

 "I did not mean to ignore your text," Harry placed his hands behind his back, "I tried several times to reply. Somehow, the right words would not arise."  
  
Louis flushed and turned away, ashamed. "It's-- It's okay."

"It is not okay," Harry took a step forwards, "I feared I had made you feel alone. So I came to Liam's apartment, a few nights ago. I was so close to talking to you, to holding you-- but I did not. I...I failed. I was a coward."  
  
"You're not a coward, H," Louis was ready to all but yell in defence of him, Harry could tell, but he shook his head.

"I should have come to you sooner," Harry spoke, "And for that I am sorry."

He held Louis' hand, and Louis smiled, squeezing it back.

"S'okay," he murmured, hoarse. The emotion had clogged up his voice. "We both did this a bit shit."

"I-- I am sorry about hiding from you," Harry admitted, hesitantly, "I did not want to hurt you."

"Why would you have hurt me?" A frown impeded on Louis' very wet expression.

"It-- I-- My mother," Harry said, and struggled to find the right words, "She visited me. On the day I ran from court."

He paused and attempted to find a way of expressing it, mind heavy with guilt. When he looked at Louis all he could see was his mother's face, staring at him, a world of disappointment in his face. Had he truly failed the gods? Was there no way of him ever righting the wrongs that he had committed? Was the way he felt, the way he continued to feel-- wrong?

"Harry," Louis spoke, and his face was filled with tension. "What happened?"

Harry closed his eyes. "I do not know if I can-- the words--"

Louis held their hands up to his chest. "Could you show me?"

-

Harry did.

For a moment, the both of them stood there, in silent deliberation of the memory. Louis watched Harry close his eyes and wanted nothing more to protect him from all the bad the world had to offer.

"Say something," Harry spoke, after a while. "Tell me how you feel."

"I feel-- angry," Louis admitted, "What she said. It-- it wasn't right."

To a degree it was. The part about Louis certainly was. But-- she should not be able to control him like that, to dictate what he felt--

"Has it always been like that?" Louis was truly, truly, angry, "Between you?"

"Yes," Harry spoke, and his voice was small, "But it was good, too."

"It's not normal, H," Louis looked down, "For her to-- tell you what to think. What to dream."

"I did not listen."

"I'm glad, but--" Louis squeezed his hands, "You do know it's not normal, right? The way she treats you?"

Harry paused and looked down, the pink of his lips pursed in distress. Louis watched him and saw the look of someone's entire world tumbling down: and it was heartbreaking to see. It was heartbreaking to see someone only just realise that they had been controlled their entire life.

"We are gods," he spoke, and his voice was heavy, "I never thought anything astray."

"Parents shouldn't control their kids," Louis reached for him, "No matter what. Not like that."

Harry bit his lip and a fat tear of glitter fell down his face. "I didn't want to hurt you. With what she said."

"I don't care about what she says about me," Louis held his face, "Honestly. I couldn't give less of a shit."

That, at least, aroused a smile from Harry. 

"I care when you're being treated like you're an idiot, though," Louis spoke, "Seriously, Harry. It's not okay. You're your own person and what you feel-- it's not for her to decide."

"I am beginning to learn things are not as they seemed," Harry held the hand that was resting on his face, "I need to think on it further."

"We both do," Louis laughed, "On a lot of things, I mean. But-- in the meantime--"

He reached on his tiptoes and kissed Harry on the forehead, long and hard. When he sank to his feet once more, Harry was looking at him with a bewildered expression.

"You have never done that before," Harry spoke, amused.

"Let's just say it wasn't from me," Louis giggled, and before Harry could frown, Louis kissed him again. And again. And again.

"We must get you dry," Harry mumbled, letting the forehead kiss matter rest for now, "You irresponsible, strange, human."

Louis laughed and held him. "If I'm an irresponsible strange human, than you have to be an even stranger god."

Harry wrapped his arms around Louis' waist. "Deal."

-

When Louis came out of the shower Harry was waiting for him, frowning deeply at the radio in Niall's bedroom. Louis laughed.

"What are you doing?"

Harry turned to him and continued attempting to press the buttons. "I am trying to find dance music."

"What, like," Louis adjusted his towel and walked to him, "Club music? Or like, electronic?"

"Dance music," Harry swayed his hips, "Of the soft kind. Akin to the Yule Ball."

"The Yule...Ball," Louis blinked.

"Yes!" Harry spoke, enthusiastically, "The Harry of the Potter!"

Oh. Jesus.

Louis laughed and wrapped his arms around him. "You're unreal."

"I am very much real," Harry's frown dissipated at the touch, but Louis could see the conscious effort he made to keep it there, "You, on the other hand, are wet."

"Wouldn't be the first time tonight," Louis grinned, and sighed, "Okay. That sounded kinky, but it's literally true."

"It is so," Harry nodded, and wrapped his arm around Louis' shoulder, "Teach me how to find the music."

"Uhh," Louis leaned over to see, and in the process, leaned on him, "So you're looking for, like, classical music? With the violin and stuff?"

"I like the violin," Harry smiled, softly so, "Do you play any instruments, Louis?"

"Ehhh," Louis flushed, "I dabble in piano."

Harry's face lit with excitement, and Louis sighed.

"I'm shit, though. Like, seriously shit."

"I can help you be better," Harry offered.

"Do you know piano?"

"I-- have more than once dabbled in it," Harry spoke, experimentally. He turned back to the radio and jumped in shock.

"Hey, hey, it's alright," Louis squeezed his arm, "Look. It's the classic station."

"There is a train of music going through," Harry bent over to watch the numbers of the station float past on the screen, "I like it."

"Me too," Louis said, "I mean, it's not my thing, but it's...Nice. Very floaty."

"What is your thing?" 

"Eerh," Louis flushed, brushing his face with his shoulder, "You'll laugh, but it's actually jazz."

"I love the jazz!" Harry exclaimed, face bright. "We should find some."

"Later, maybe," Louis said.

He closed his eyes and leaned on Harry's shoulder, gently bopping his head to the sound. It was quiet, and peaceful, and calm, and it made him feel as though the world was light. When he opened his eyes once more, Harry was looking at him as though all of the fondness in the world could not display his affection. Louis blushed, and began to stutter.

"I-- uh--" 

"You are lovely," Harry spoke, and his cheeks began to warm. "Let's dance."

"Like how?" Louis bit his lip, and concluded that if Harry asked him to jump off a cliff in that moment, he would have wholeheartedly agreed.

Harry smiled and took his hands, "Like this?"

He began to sway a little, and it took Louis a second to realise what he was trying to recreate. He giggled a little, placed one of Harry's hands in his, and the other on his waist.

"Like this," he mumbled, and placed his own hand on Harry's shoulder.

"The Goblet of the Fire," Harry whispered, in kind, and Louis put his hand on his face.

"Yeah," he spoke, "Exactly."

They swayed for a bit, and Louis brushed their noses together.

"How do you know that reference, anyway?"

"Niall made me watch them all," Harry explained, "It was rather...harrowing."

Louis laughed. "Not everyone's a fan."

"Not that," Harry spoke, "It took me a while to understand how a stick could hold magic. And take commands."

"Well," Louis shrugged, "For some it might be weird that a bow and arrow make people fall in love."

"That is probably correct," Harry giggled, "But it makes complete sense."

"Does it?" Louis teased, "I mean, if I said a tennis racket could make someone fall in love, you probably wouldn't buy it."

"Tennis rackets are silly," Harry defended, "They have too many holes. Why not just make the racket flat?"

"Why not just make the arrow a javelin? I mean, there's no real need for the bow."

"It is to aim," Harry snuggled him closer, and Louis rested his face on Harry's shoulder, "What purpose is there for the holes in a racket?"

"Mmm," Louis grinned against him, "I dunno. It makes it go swoosh, I guess."

"Swoosh," Harry repeated, and started to laugh.

The movement echoed against Louis' own chest, and he giggled. "It does! It goes swoosh! I'm not lying!"

"I did not think you were," Harry held the back of his head, "But you really are quite silly, χρυσέ μου."

"Whwhwat now?" Louis frowned. He had not prepared for hearing Harry's voice dip like that: in tone and feeling both.

"χρυσέ μου," Harry spoke, softly, and he brushed a strand of hair from Louis' face, "My golden one."

Louis could've fainted at the rate of which the raw, true feeling of endearment rose in his chest, and he couldn't help but kiss him. In doing so, the towel around his waist fell to the floor, and in that moment he could not have cared less. 

He probably should have. Because then, just as Harry's hand reached down to hold Louis' butt, and Louis began to unbutton Harry's shirt, the apartment door opened, and a very wet Niall thundered inside.

"Harry, I brought you some bubble bath stuff? Because I heard you like that and--" He began to talk. And then, a screech. A thump. 

Niall dropped his shopping bags on the floor, Louis dove very nakedly behind the sofa, and all three of them, simultaneously, began to scream.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #anterosfanclub  
> two chapters left


	13. Chapter 13

 xiii.

 

The next few minutes were...Awkward.

Niall spent them flustered, blushing, and swearing beneath his breath. Harry spent them covering Niall's eyes as Louis ran to the bathroom to get changed. Louis spent them getting dressed, and damning everything to the heavens.

When he emerged, Niall was staring at him with wide eyes. As if he could not decide which emotion to display the most.

"Okay," he panted, "So...This happened."

"Yep," Louis said, face red, "For the record, you've seen my butt before--"

"No, no no no no no," Niall shook his head, "This."

He gestured between Harry and Louis, and a soft expression dawned upon Harry's face.

"We are in love," he spoke, proudly.

Louis flushed red and sent him a look.

"Correction: we are _falling,_ " Harry said, trying to find direction in Louis' eyes, "And we are going to give it a try."

Louis nodded and sighed, relieved. Harry sent him a sideways thumb up.

"Okay, that's awesome, but," Niall looked between them both, "What about Liam?"

"What about Liam?" Louis suddenly felt very sick.

"Well, does he know about this?"

"We should tell him," Harry beamed, and began marching for the phone.

"No-- Harry--" Louis grabbed his arm, "Don't."

"But--"

"Not yet," Louis pleaded, "Don't. Liam-- Liam freaks out a lot."

"With good reason," Niall spoke, "I mean, this is breaking a whole lot of fuckin' law rules, and you know how Liam loves his law rules--"

"It has not helped him in this case so far," Harry mused, and took Louis' hand, "But if he is to freak out, we should refrain from telling him."

"No," Louis breathed, "I-- I'll tell him. Eventually. Just not-- now."

"Soon?" Harry had a weary expression on his face.

"Yeah," Louis squeezed his hand, "Soon."

He felt infinitely nervous for some reason. Maybe it was because Niall's eyes were scanning him, judging them, from across the room. Even though it was Niall, and even though Louis had known him for years, the gaze still made him feel skittish. He'd never been with someone, or wanted to be with someone, like this-- much less displayed that fact to anyone. But after a few moments, Niall just sighed and smiled, and wrapped the both of them in a hug.

"You bastards," he mumbled, "My little children."

"My what now?" Louis frowned, and Harry giggled.

"Niall has adopted us now," he mused, "He is very proud."

"Yeah," Niall took a step back, "You got that right."

He kissed them both on the forehead, roughly so. Louis giggled and flushed, not expecting the touch.

"The best of luck to you both," Niall said, gripping Louis' face, "I mean it."

"Er, thanks," Louis flustered.

"I'm so glad you finally, you know," Niall grinned, "Found someone."

Louis looked over at Harry from over Niall's shoulder, and sent him a private smile. "Me too."

"Niall," Harry spoke, sticking his chin up, "I feel as though I should remind you that that is a _lover's_ embrace."

Niall cackled, and released him, but Louis stood there, for a moment, scandalised. Was Harry _jealous?_ Niall saw no harm in it, but Louis saw the immediacy of which Harry relaxed, and the reddening of his cheeks, upon Niall moving away. Harry knew there was no meaning to any of the things Niall did, for he had experienced it himself, numerous times: but he could not help but feel silently unsettled by it.

It was adorable. And, even though Louis should not have found it so, it was also reasserting.

Louis slipped his hand into Harry's and brought it to his lips, experimentally so. Harry relaxed a little at this, but he still looked worried.

 _Niall is my best friend,_ he reminded, and Harry sent him a glance.

 _I know,_ Harry replied.  _I am sorry. I am selfish._

_You're not._

_You misunderstand. I irrationally want all of you, all at once. It is very numbing._

Louis smiled, slowly, and held his hand to his face. His brain said: it's okay, but his heart said  _I am yours._

Harry's face split with dimples, and he giggled a little. He thought:  _I feel the way you feel when I think such things. It is strange._

 _That's just as well,_ Louis thought,  _because I have no fucking way to describe the? Explosions? In my stomach?_

"Ahem," Niall spoke, staring at them.

 _Oh hey there,_ Louis thought.

 _Out loud, Louis,_ Harry began to giggle.

"Hi," Louis spluttered, and tried his hardest not to laugh.

"You guys were just stood there...staring at each other," Niall narrowed his eyes and looked at either one of them, "I mean, I was tryna talk to you, but--"

"Sorry," Harry bit his lip.

"Uh, what were you--"

"I was askin' you," Niall blinked, "After I got over the shock of _this,_ well, I was askin' why you aren't at the office?"

Louis blinked. "Ni, it's like-- 5pm."

"So?" Niall blinked on back at him. 

"It's my day off!" Louis felt tension build up in him. "Why should I be at the office?"

"The news, Louis," Niall visibly paled, "From earlier?"

Louis shook his head in confusion. Niall filed through his carrier bags and produced a newspaper, somewhat soggy from the rain. 

The headline wasn't clear, as the ink was half melted away by the rain, but Louis could clearly see the title:

_**LYVONINSKY FIGHTS BACK** _

"I don't understand," Louis panicked, and he no longer could read. His hand began to tremble and Harry squeezed it, feelings of reassurance flooding, in vain, into Louis' mind.

"Shit, I thought you knew," A sweat formed on Niall's brow, "We're fucked, Lou. Sheila's moved the court date to tomorrow."

-

It was safe to say that there was a lot of screaming involved.

They met at Liam's and found him buried in paper, hyperventilating. It took all three of him to lift him out, and even then he was still panicking.

"Louis-- I sent you texts," Liam spoke, eyes wide.

"My phone was wet," Louis breathed, and sent Harry a private look, "When did the news break?"

"I dunno. An hour or two ago," Liam breathed, "I freaked out. You weren't here, you weren't at work. And fuck- my fucking phone's been off the road--"

"Li," Louis couldn't believe he was the voice of calm, "Please breathe."

"We're--" Liam wrestled from their grip, and began stumbling for the bookcase, "We need to--- the--"

"It's fine, Li, um, i-it's--"

"We need to-- the--"

"LIAM!" Niall yelped. STOPFREAKINGOUT!"

"I'M NOT!"

"YESYOUARE!" Niall's face was red, "AND YOU NEVER FREAK OUT, SO ITS MAKING LOUIS FREAK OUT AND ME FREAK OUT AND--"

A pause. They all froze: Harry had reached out and touched all three of them.

"Calm," he said. And so they were.

Niall let out a gigantic breath, and the red left his cheeks. "Holy fuck. What did you--"  
  
"I projected an overpowering image of tranquillity into your minds," Harry spoke, softly so, "It is too much for the human mind to resist."

Niall looked at his hand in awe. "That's--incredible."

"Thank you," Harry smiled, content. 

"Li?" Louis asked, because Liam had began pacing once more.

"She shouldn't have been able to do that," Liam uttered, "How did she do that?"

"She's fuckin' rich," Niall stressed, "What can't she do?"

"I've had enough of it," Liam spoke, "She's broken the law so many times during this case, her and her-- gang. And it's too much. She's trying to rig it so we can't win-- and it's too much."

"Then we use that against her," Louis offered, "We bring it up to weaken her prosecution. If she's not doing this properly then it shows she has something to hide."

Liam shook his head. "I don't know if we can win this, Lou. Not tomorrow."

"Li," Louis stepped forward, "We have everything we need and I'm not sure she knows that. She's counting on the idea of us being unprepared. She has from the start."

"Ey, ey," Niall grinned, and pointed his fingers, "I like where this is going."

"You're not a lawyer, though, Niall," Liam sat down and put his face in his hands, "Are you?"

"No," Niall sat beside him, "But I know that you're both smart as shit. So it'll be fine."

Liam rolled his eyes and sighed. Louis walked to him, and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Li, do you remember the night before the Cowell case?"

He groaned. "Don't make this into a lesson, Lou."  
  
"I'm not," Louis sat beside him, "But you remember that night, right? You were upset, and stressed, and I was upset, and stressed, and in the end we just called it quits and decided it would be what it would be?"

"There wasn't as much to stake," Liam shook his head.

"Li--" Louis spluttered, "We were recovering millions of pounds."

"It's still not as much," Liam closed his eyes, "It didn't mean as much to you. Or to me."

Louis frowned and looked at the others. They shrugged in response.

"Oh, come on, Louis," Liam snarked, "We all know how much Harry means to you. I can't lose this case because of that."

"Liam-- I--" Louis tried, in vain, to produce words. He appeared shocked, but in reality his emotions were a bit, stone wall of pride and tears.

Harry seemed to understand, and ran his fingertips along Louis' back as he passed him. He squatted in front of Liam, and held his knee in comfort.

"We appreciate everything you have done for me, Liam," he spoke, slowly so, "You are an honourable person. A hero of men. A good, good friend to those you love. This I understand. I am truly humbled by your dedication to helping when it would benefit you all the while not to, and I feel that you want to see this through more than anything else in the world."

A silence. Liam let out a shaky breath, and nodded, a tear noiselessly drifting down his cheek.

"If you are to complete what you wish, you must calm yourself," Harry stressed, "And believe in what you know. Believe in all that you are, because you are so much, and in your stress you often overlook it. Your worth is more than a variable to be considered: it is a foundation, it is the biggest thing of all. Without you, your accomplishments mean nothing. So do not forget yourself now."

He squeezed his knee, and Liam nodded. He bit his lip and quickly wiped the tears from his eyes, in which time Louis had kissed Harry on the cheek and wrapped Liam in the tightest of hugs.

"I never knew you--" he began, but stopped.

What was the word he was looking for? Noticed? _Cared?_

"Of course I fucking do," Liam mumbled, "I'm an idiot."

"Thank you, Li," Louis spoke, "Truly. For everything."

"Just bloody fuck him already," Liam whispered, and Louis laughed and stood away.

"Well," he began, "About that--"  
  
Liam's eyes widened in surprise and Niall awkwardly coughed to fill the silence.

"Alright! Let's talk about it later!" He announced, loudly so, "In the meantime, we have a fuckin' trial tomorrow, or something, right?"

"Yes," Liam spoke, slowly, and he was still giving Louis an expression that said  _we'll talk about this later,_ "We do. Where are the court files again?"

-

Harry had fallen asleep by the time they had finished going over everything again, which was about three hours later. Louis awoke him by wriggling his toe, to which Harry blinked, groggily, and smiled up at him.

"What time is it?" He asked.

"Eight," Louis spoke, "We're taking a lil break."

"Why so?"

"Well, Niall and Li are about to tear each other's hair out," Louis shrugged, "So that's a thing."

He brushed his fingertips along Harry's leg, and Harry sighed in content. He felt a few feelings brush along his mind: confusion, happiness, anxiety. He reached for Louis' hand, and stroked his thumb along the palm of it.

"How were they?" he asked.

"Uh," Louis blinked, "Different. Mostly stressed, but...Different."

He bit his lip and sat beside Harry on the sofa, causing Harry's legs to fall. He did not mind.

"They wanted to know about what happened, of course," Louis bit a very red lip, "And, I dunno. I told them. And they were happy for me, of course, but it just feels weird. I don't like them making a big deal about it."

Harry reached for a strand of Louis' hair, and curled it between his fingertips. "Why not? Love is important."  
  
"I just--" Louis shrugged, "This is a new thing for me. I guess it's easier for me to digest without other people's opinions."

"They are your friends," Harry mused, "They love you."

"I know," Louis bit, "And of course, their opinions matter to me. But I just don't want it to cloud my head, you know?"

"To change your judgement."

"Yeah," Louis closed his eyes as Harry cupped his cheek with his palm, "Like, they want me to say the three words to you, or even to myself, but I just-- I can't--"

He sighed.

_It's stupid but I can't. Admit it yet. You know? Not even in my head. Because it feels like there's a thousand walls to go through before I get to that point. I hate them and I'm sorry for them. They're still there no matter what I do. There to guard me in case you leave? You know? Because I think if I get to that stage again and it's all for nothing I'll just fucking snap._

"I would never want you to snap," Harry promised, cupping both sides of Louis' face in his hands, "And I understand. Truly."

"S'just feels stupid," Louis admitted, and he was very clearly embarrassed, "I mean, you're a love god, and I can't even admit that I--" 

"That you're falling," Harry finished, and Louis nodded.

"I don't want it to be like this," he spoke, upset, "You know. The _always mind_ thing. I want to be able to say things. Out loud. And not feel shit about them."

"It is a journey," Harry said, "You've been hurt. It will take things a while to heal."

"I-- I know, but I just--" Louis blinked, and he hid tears well, "I want it to happen faster. I want to be here for you, fully, now, while you're still here and this is happening. But I'm just not in the right head space, not fully, and I fucking hate it. I'm trying so hard to change."

"It's okay, Louis," Harry mumbled, "Truly. It is fine."

"I feel like I'm letting you down," Louis wallowed, "That I'm all pathetic and shit and you're putting in everything."

"That is just how I am," Harry mused, "I am extreme in all that I do and say. You cannot expect anyone else to be the same, much less yourself. It is attempting to fit yourself into a box for which you are not meant. You have not loved for a long time, and now you are protecting yourself. It is much smarter than anything I could do. I have no experience, and this makes me rash. This has moved quickly for Earth standards and I did not even think to realise it. In this, I have pushed you too quickly. And for that, I am truly sorry."

"No--" Louis shook his head, "Don't be sorry, H. You're not pushing me too quickly. I just-- I've never felt anything like this before and my stupid body doesn't know how to process it. It'd be the same if it happened over years, or decades, or just-- I'm shit."

"Your hesitance is not pathetic in any way, Lou," Harry brushed his hair from his eyes, "Everyone loves at their own chosen pace. I know this more than most; it is taught to all of my siblings by the goddess of love herself. The speed of which you process this is not your own fault. It is true to you, and at a speed at which you need to heal. It is a part of being human. It is a part of being alive."

"I don't want to be human," Louis mumbled, "I want to be yours."

"You are," Harry whispered, and kissed him, "Louis. You are."

Louis wrapped himself around Harry, truly buried himself in him, and for a moment, just sat there, enveloped in touch. When they broke away he was crying, a little, bottom lip trembling.

"I'm sorry," he said, quietly, "I'm just-- the trial."

"Stress often amplifies feelings," Harry held his waist, and watched his face, concerned, "It is not your fault."

"I just really--" Louis sniffed, "I feel a lot of things, you know? Right now. At the moment. About you, about everything. It's completely disarming."

Harry nodded and Louis brushed his fingertips across his face, quietly exploring. His expression stilled from upset to a solid, warm sense of wonder.

"I don't deserve you," he spoke, softly, "I don't deserve to feel what you make me feel. In here."

He pointed to his chest and Harry closed his eyes, just feeling it.

"I love the way that you make me feel," Harry murmured, "I would not swap it for the world. When you smile, I get a strange sort of fondness that I cannot describe. When you laugh, I want to put you on a pedestal and show you to everyone that has ever existed, and hide you away in my arms, all at once. I feel as though I have known you for centuries, my love."

Louis squirmed in his arms and when Harry opened his eyes, he was blushing.

"Harry," he whispered, at last, _"My love?"_

Harry flushed and smiled in embarrassment. "I--I suppose it just felt right."

"It does, doesn't it?" Louis suddenly seemed to have a clear moment of self doubt. He sniffed, and pressed their foreheads together, effortlessly close. "I don't know how. But it does. And-- I feel it too."

"The feelings?"

"Yeah," Louis said, and snorted, "Hey, don't act all innocent. You know what you do to me."

"You never verbalised it before."

"I'm shit at describing," Louis admitted, "It just-- it all comes out as jelly. You talk like you're composing a fucking sonnet."

Harry laughed. "Jelly words."

"Yeah," Louis snorted, "Yeah, that's it."

"I do not think you have them," Harry mumbled, and brushed his fingertips along Louis' face, "But if you wish, you may _show_ me how you feel instead."

"What-- like-- thoughts? Or--"

"However you wis--" Harry began, but he had to stop: Louis had tugged down his jeans, and the feeling that followed was all he'd ever known.

-

They lay together for a while, Louis leaning on Harry's side, his hand sprawled across his chest. Their legs were tangled atop Liam's sofa, and there was a shitty rom com on the tv. Louis couldn't help but worry about the case, and although he tried his hardest from letting Harry feel his anxiety through his skin, some of it still seeped through. He knew when it did, because Harry would respond with a squeeze of the arm, or a kiss to Louis' forehead, or a mumble of  _all is well._ But all wasn't well. And, quite honestly, Louis wasn't as afraid of the case as he was the thing that would inevitably happen after.

"You're going home soon, aren't you?" He asked.

Harry froze, a small frown gathering on his face. "Where has this come from?"

"Dunno," Louis spoke, "Been thinking about it."

There was a pause, in which Harry's palm moved, gently, across Louis' back. He sighed.

"I am not sure," he said.

"How can you not be sure?" Louis turned to look at him, "I mean, that was the deal, wasn't it?"

Harry nodded, slowly, and his face was drawn with pain. "I-- I am torn."

Louis watched him for a moment, eyes interrogative. Then, Harry emitted a shaky breath, and looked away.

"You don't know whether to stay or go," Louis mused.

"It has become more difficult than I would have hoped," Harry spoke, wavering, "To choose."

"Your family's up there, H," Louis muttered, "You belong there."

"That does not mean that I do not belong _here,_ " Harry squeezed his waist, "I love this world. I have barely scratched it's surface, and cultures. I wish to explore. I wish to be a part of it."

"But-- your family. Your home."

"I know," Harry closed his eyes, "I miss them."

Louis leaned up, and brushed a fat curl from Harry's eyes, "You should choose for you, H. Not for them. Not for us. For you."

"I do not want to leave you behind," Harry held his hand, "We have only just started-"

His find filled the gap:  _to love. To be. To find one another._

"I know, but," Louis' heart ached, "The world is bigger than us, H. It has to be."

Harry did not look happy with that conclusion, but he nodded nonetheless, jaw tight and posture cold. For a moment Louis watched him wrestle with the reality of it all, the truth of it twisting brutally, and relentlessly, within him. He was someone clearly not used to the feeling of being torn between two worlds, and Louis did not envy him for it.

"Just think about it, okay?" Louis asked, "If nothing else. I-- I honestly have no idea of what's going to happen tomorrow."

There was a pause, in which Harry nodded in confirmation, and his eyes grew dark. He was upset, Louis could tell, but he refrained from prying. There was not much he could do to help in this instance. To sway him one way or the other would be incredibly unfair, and considering Harry's deep trust of him, he would probably follow whatever path Louis pushed him in, if he thought it would help. But it was a decision Harry would have to make on his own. It was the one thing that Louis couldn't really give him advice on.

"I will think about it," Harry spoke, heavily.

"Thanks, H," Louis leaned up, and kissed him once on the cheek: firm and close.

He poured all of the affection he could muster into it, and Harry obviously felt it, because his grumpy composure lifted for a moment, and he began to giggle. Spurred on by this, Louis proceeded to kiss him again, and again, and again, all over his face, until Harry was sputtering with laughter.

"Ahh!" He beamed, "I am being attacked!"

Louis evil laughed and clambered fully on top of him, "I won't show any mercy."

"Please!" Harry giggled, "Please!"

He reached up and began to tickle Louis in response, which meant that Louis became absolutely and utterly useless. He began to cackle, helpless, and became a squealing ragdoll within Harry's arms.

"Guys--" Niall popped his head around the corner, "Please. Liam's tryna sign some documents."

"Sorry," Louis bit his lip, and Niall sent them a fond look, "I'll be in to help in a sec."

"Nah, we're alright," Niall batted his hands, "Just be quiet, okay?"

He left and Harry began to splutter into a laugh once more, lips pink with the scandal of it all. His curls covered his face.

"Hey!" Louis scolded, "Shhh!"

"You shhh," Harry mumbled, "You were the one giggling."

"Youu," Louis pointed, "Were the one tickling me."

"That is a tickle?" Harry looked at Louis' ribs, "In Olympia it is a movement of the utmost respect."

"Yeah, yeah," Louis rolled his eyes, and Harry cackled, "You think you can pull that one over me?"

Harry bit his lip. "It was worth a try."

Louis smiled to himself before leaning, fully, onto Harry's chest. He did so so that his face fully squished against Harry's bicep, and the warmth of his skin flooded, completely, onto him. Harry shuddered at the cold of Louis' face before wrapping his arms around him, squeezing Louis there, protecting him from-- everything. At that moment no other good thing existed in the world. Louis could have stayed there for days, years, eons. Any measure of time, just to remain there, burrowed in warmth, the slow hammer of Harry's heartbeat the only melody he could ever know.

He closed his eyes and lifted his hand to it, listening. "S'slow."

"Hmm?" Harry trailed a lazy fingertip along Louis' back. Louis didn't know where he had learned that, but he loved it.

"Your heartbeat," Louis muttered, "It's slow."

Harry paused for a moment, and then, began hysterically laughing. 

"What?" Louis leaned up, confused.

"It is nothing," Harry beamed, eyes watering, "It is nothing. Truly."

"Did I say something wrong?" Louis spoke, and Harry slowly guided him back to his chest.

"No," Harry began playing with a tendril of hair at the base of Louis' neck, "You just solved a puzzle for me that I have been wrestling with for some time."

"Is it understanding me?" Louis closed his eyes, "Because I've been struggling with that for ages."

"No," Harry chuckled, "But it concerns you."

"Alright, now you have to tell me," Louis sat up, "It's gunna kill me otherwise."

"Would you believe me if I said my heart has been speaking to me all this time?"

Louis looked at him for a moment: took in those quiet, clear eyes, and the peach-touched glow of his cheeks. "I mean, you're gonna have to explain."

"Okay," Harry chuckled at Louis' bewildered expression, and ran his fingers through his hair, "Do you remember when I told you that my heart skips a beat when a couple misses each other?"

"When they're not together and shit," Louis blinked, "Yeah."

"When I experienced you and Colin for the first time, I thought the skip was between the two of you," Harry continued to play with Louis' hair, "That is why I attempted to shoot at you. But I was wrong. It was between you and me."

Louis lay there for a minute, basking in it. And then, his eyes widened.

"Oh!" He said, growing excited, "So-- when your arrow missed me--"

"It knew that you and Colin were not meant to be," Harry's face dawned with grief, "Louis, I am still sorry--"

"Shh a sec," Louis placed a finger over his lip, "Shh."

He looked away and began to think it all over. So-- that day-- it wasn't his fault? It wasn't anything to do with Colin, or him, or anything...It just wasn't _meant to be?_ Granted, Colin had turned out to be a right piece of shit, but Louis had thought he was right for him then, and--well-- it had felt so right at the time, and--

Fuck. His mind was racing so much he could barely breathe.

"Ἀγαπητέ," Harry breathed, "Tell me what you think."

"I t-think that it makes sense," Louis muttered, "Yeah. I think it makes sense."

"You're not scared?"

"No," Louis frowned to himself, and then smiled, "No. I-- Why would I be?"

"I just thought it would be too much," Harry mumbled, "You wanted to take this slowly."

"No-- No," Louis said, "I mean-- I do. I just. It makes sense, you know?"

Harry watched him for a moment, gently so, and Louis closed his eyes.

"I think I kind of knew it would never be a thing," he admitted, "I always thought it would be because of me, though. Not because of fate."

"Louis," Harry spoke, and Louis _loved_ the way he said his name. He said his name like it meant the world. like every vowel was worth making a big deal of. "You give yourself too little credit. You were willing to give your all to that man."

"It wasn't enough, though, was it?" 

"You were willing to give every part of you to someone else," Harry kissed his knuckles, "It was incredibly noble, and brave, of you, regardless of the outcome."

"Thanks," Louis bit his lip and sighed, "I just-- I suppose it makes sense that fate intervened. I know you were just trying to help, and make me happy, you know? And that means so much to me."

Harry brushed the entirety of his palm across Louis' cheek. "I would do anything for your happiness."

"Me too," Louis sighed, "I mean, it's been like that from the start, hasn't it?"

He kissed him, lightly, and thought:  _I've always been a bit of a fool for you._

_I just thought you were being nice._

Louis laughed at that, and wondered what the fuck he was going to do without him.

-

Harry had decided that his love for Louis did not rest in a few certain things. It was a general matter, one that stretched from the way Louis spoke to the way he handled things. Harry wanted to catalogue them all.

For instance, he had the most interesting of responses to things. For example, when he found a bucket of bath bombs in Liam's bathroom, his response was to go "Oooh!" and hold two over the space where his testicles were. Even before he suggested they have a bath, he poked his head around the door where Liam was going over things, and asked him if he minded, which Harry thought was rather sweet. Then, he'd explain all of the workings of a bath bomb to Harry, even if to others, the conversation may have seemed strange. That was the thing with Louis. He just didn't care about the standard of the norm.

He could also keep up with all of Harry's varying levels of randomness. Sometimes, he even surpassed them: his brain latching onto the most specific of things to bring into conversation.

"Agaaarrrpetos," he stated, getting undressed, "What does it mean?"

"Hmm?" Harry had looked to him, getting undressed in the same manner.

"You said it to me," Louis jogged off his trousers, "Earlier."

"Oh," Harry smiled, " _Ἀγαπητέ._ It means darling. Beloved."

Louis flushed all of the way to his collarbones, which Harry also liked. Louis had a large amount of curiosity which he seemed to expect to be fulfilled with no regards to himself. When regards to himself was made, he struggled, everytime, with the idea that something special would hold such a positive connotation to someone like him. Harry loved the way he reacted to things, and longed to press sweet words into Louis' skin until he believed them.

"I like that word," Louis said, "Will you teach me Greek sometime?"

Another thing Harry loved about Louis was his body. Of course, God standards of attraction were unique and far more complex than the average beings'. But Harry was intrigued with every part of Louis- how his body was structured, delicately and strongly all at once, with no waver of either quality. One quality would sometimes peak above the other, like, for instance, when his wrist flicked when he was writing, and became utterly dainty and porcelain in texture, or when he nodded, and his chin jerked and became defined in a way that could have only been explained as stark. But his body as a whole seemed to consistently waver between the two qualities, and Harry loved it. He wanted to learn every part of him, and discover more about what his reactions were-- to everything.

"Of course," he spoke, after a while, because Louis was very naked in front of him and Harry had lost his train of thought.

Louis looked like the paintings of old.

He looked like a god.

They clambered in the bath together, and Harry learned with great astonishment that the bath bomb did not explode, as the name suggested-- but, instead, slowly foamed into a range of colours in the midst of all of that water. Louis giggled at his reaction and clambered atop Harry in the tub, his back to Harry's front, and Harry held him.

"I like this," Louis spoke, content.

Harry kissed the top of Louis' ears, softly so. "I like these."

"What?" Louis blushed, and put his hands over his ears, once again showing the quality of strength. "My ears?"

"Yes," Harry mumbled, in a grin, "They're very cute."

"I---I just thought they were pretty average," Louis admitted, "Do gods find ears attractive or something?"

Harry kissed his hands. "I find all of you attractive."

"Oh god," Louis spluttered out in a laugh, and Harry giggled into his shoulder.

"Alright," Harry conceded. "Perhaps not all."

"Feet are pretty repulsive," Louis admitted, and shrugged.

"They are quite strange," Harry spoke, and wiggled his, "I do not see why there are so many toes."

"Ah," Louis smiled, fondly so, "S'for balance."

"Balance," Harry repeated, and lifted up his hand, "And why so many fingers?"

Louis took his hand and kissed it. "For holding things."

"Holding _important_ things," Harry said, and cupped Louis' cheek.

Louis flushed red in his hand, and wrinkled his nose. "You're making me feel things again."

"I am not sorry," Harry laughed, "You deserve to feel the best of things."  
  
"No. You do."

"We can both deserve to feel the best of things," Harry offered, "It is not a competition."

"Mmm," Louis hummed, but it did not seem like he agreed. Harry decided to drop the matter for now.

"May I ask you something?"

"Yeah," Louis leaned into him, "What?"

"It is a bit of a strange question."

Louis looked at him, his hair wet against his face, "Nothing is a strange question to me, H."

"Okay," Harry bit his lip, "You do not have to answer if you do not want, but...What would you be a deity of, if you could be?"

It was a solution that had been running through his mind for a few days now: perhaps, he could have brought Louis to Olympia with him. Louis being a god would not only suit him, but solve the problem of them not being together. The only problem was that Harry was more than certain that Louis would not want to leave his world behind, especially for one he had deemed so cold.

"Probably clouds," Louis said, leaning back, "I like clouds. Or...Sunlight."

Harry laughed. "Those already exist, my love."

"Okay, well, then--" Louis grinned, "Space. Is there a god of space?"

"There is a god of the stars. Astraios."

"Not one of space, in general, though? Like the whole thing?"

Harry laughed, once more. "The duties are split between many gods. It would be impossible for someone to take the burden alone."

"Well, I've been told I have big shoulders," Louis said, and spluttered into laughs, "I'm kidding. Space way too fucking big for me. Like. There's a lot."

"There is indeed," Harry murmured, and kissed his shoulders.

"How about a god of jelly beans?" Louis craned to look at him, "Is there one of those?"

"No," Harry smiled, "But what is a jelly bean?"

"Oh my God," Louis grinned, "Okay. First thing after the trial I'm fucking getting you some. I don't even care what happens."

"Are they nice?" Harry began to play with a strand of his hair.

"Mmm," Louis closed his eyes, "Yeah. They're the best."

Harry drew his fingers down onto Louis' scalp, and Louis let out a loud sigh.

"You like this?" Harry turned to look at him.

"Yeah," Louis breathed, "S'relaxing."

"I am glad that I relax you," Harry mused, and continued doing it.

"Usually, it's the opposite effect," Louis laughed, and Harry kissed his neck.

"I like your hair," Harry spoke, "It is very long, like this."  
  
"Thanks," Louis grinned, "Usually, it just all sticks up."  
  
"I love it both ways," Harry spoke. "May I ask something else?"

"Yessss," Louis kissed his hand.

"How do you complete the twistiness?"

"The what now?"

"The twistiness," Harry struggled to explain, "When your hair is twisted. And then there is a strange circle at the bottom."

"A braid?" Louis turned to him, and his eyes were alive with the idea, "Harry, do you want me to braid your hair?"

"I--" Harry blushed, "I did not know that was a thing."

"Alright, get up," Louis stood, "You're in for the time of your life."

-

Harry woke up curled up in bed, warm and flushed, his hair in long curls around his face. It took him a moment to realise that two long strands were tied in braids, as Louis intended, and Harry flushed in excitement. Memories from the night before washed into his mind: of an intimate few minutes spent in bed, Harry leaning against Louis' legs as Louis' fingers drew through his hair. It was so tranquil that Harry must have fallen asleep like that. He wondered where Louis was now.

It did not take him long to find him, as Louis came hurdling into the room, dressed fully in a suit. The formality surprised Harry.

"Morning," Louis said, softly, and drew the curtains, "Did you sleep well?"

"I have no need for sleep," Harry gently reminded him, "But yes."

He watched Louis look out of the window for a moment, hair wild. Harry longed to wind his fingers through it, as he had done the night before. He could tell from Louis' posture alone that he was tense, fidgety, and probably about to do something reckless. He wondered what thoughts were running through his head.

"Is the suit for the trial?" He asked, softly.

Louis looked to him, expression skittish at first, but softened as he met Harry's eyes. "Yeah."

"You look nice in it," Harry smiled, face squished against the pillow.

It was grey, and tight fitting, with a thin black tie lodged into the shirt. Louis let out a small laugh and looked down, humble. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and bit his lip. "There's one for you too. If-- uh. If you want it."

"Of course," Harry said.

"I mean, I know you can change your appearance at will, but--" Louis looked away, "If you go soon, we thought it'd be nice for you to keep something from us.Like a gift, you know?"

"Louis," Harry murmured, "Come here."

Louis did, borderline rushing, as if he had been fighting the urge to do so ever since he entered the room. Harry sat up and pulled Louis into his arms. Louis' suit felt cold and stiff on him, so Harry reached beneath it, and placed his palms on either side of Louis' waist. He was warmer there, truer. Louis let out a tiny sigh and smoothed down the front of Harry's hair.

"You got bed head," he murmured, quietly, a tiny smile on his face.

"I like the braids. Very much." Harry closed his eyes. "Did I tell you that?"

"Last night?" Louis snorted, "No. You just kinda fell asleep."

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine. You were incredibly cute, by the way," Louis grinned, and slowly cupped the expanse of Harry's cheek, "Your face was all pink. And you kept mumbling things in Greek."

Harry giggled into Louis' shoulder. "Oh, Gods."

"I could've watched that for the rest of my life, you know," Louis mused, "You asleep next to me. It felt like we lived together, you know? And that you had a job in the city, something to do with flowers and smoothies or something very cute. And I was still a boring old lawyer but that was okay because I had you. And we'd been dating for a while, and we were going to get Angie a little brother or sister soon, maybe another pug, or maybe a dalmatian. And I'd introduce you to my family, and they'd all coo and giggle at the way you spoke and they'd all instantly fall in love with you, and you'd introduce me to yours and it would just feel like we had always been a part of each other's lives. You sleeping like that made me feel like I'd done something right for once, you know? Like I'd been a part of something good. And that I'd be able to show you off as proof that I actually did something with my life, you know? Like, my job is good and everything, and I help people, but-- this was the real proof that I made it. Someone as lovely and kind and beautiful and true as you, with me. Because before I met you I felt like I knew so little, about everything, and you've just blown me away and made me feel so many things and-- Yeah. Seeing you like that just made me think that moment was infinite. And I really, really, wanted it to be."

Harry looked at him for a moment, a whole world of thoughts jammed in his head. And then, he just held him incredibly tightly, as if nothing else existed in the world, and that no other measure of comfort could ever display the affection he held for Louis in that moment. He didn't realise he was crying until a shaky hand came up to wipe the tears away, and he closed his eyes.

"Hey," Louis said, softly, "It's okay."

Harry emitted a shaky breath, "Louis-- your hands--"

"It's okay," Louis kissed him on the cheek, "Yeah. S--S'fine."

"I will miss you," Harry held his hands, "So much."

"Me too," Louis murmured, "Let's just-- Let's not not think about it right now, okay?"

"I promised you I would help you with them," Harry bit his lip, and nudged his nose against Louis' hands, "I promised you a great many things. I am so sorry."

"Hey," Louis kissed him, "It's fine. It's fine. You've helped me so much. Thank you for everything, H."

"Thank you," Harry whispered, hoarsely, "Thank you so much. You are my heart."

It was at that that Louis started to cry: slowly, at first, a great spill of tears dropping from his eyes. They landed on his suit and he laughed, breathlessly, at it, before falling back into his sorrow. They sat there for a moment, wrapped up in each other.

Eventually, Louis closed his eyes and kissed Harry's cheek again; firm, honest, tight. "I--I'll go and get your suit."

Harry didn't want to let him go. But he did, and sat there, alone, for a moment, the tears refusing to dry on his cheeks. _He didn't want to let him go._

"Hey, here it is," Louis said, and he approached, a long, pale suit in his arms.

Harry smiled, softly, at the sight of it. "It's blue."

"Yeah," Louis bit his lip, "Niall saw it ages ago. Thought you'd like it."

"I love it," Harry reached out for it, and in the process, their hands touched. Harry got a glimpse of a thought, loud and painful, from Louis:  _why does everything I love have to leave?_ But he could not find the words with which to respond.

"I, er," Louis wavered, his hands behind his back, "I think we're leaving soon. To court, I mean."

"That is alright," Harry stood, and held the suit up to himself, "Could you help me put it on?"

"Of course," Louis said, walking to him, "Anything."

-

Niall drove them up to the court, mostly because Liam couldn't stop swearing in anxiety, and Louis' hands hadn't stopped shaking since early that morning. Harry squeezed them all of the way there, sat beside him in his beautiful blue suit, fucking gorgeous, as he always was. Louis couldn't help but worry for him, for a reason he could not quite understand. In that moment he couldn't care less about the case. He just wanted Harry to be happy, in any way that Louis could have made him. If that meant he had to go home, then so be it.

"There are people with cameras," Harry mused, quietly looking out of the window, "Are they here for me?"

"Us, yeah," Liam said, "Mostly you."

"Oh," Harry smiled, and began to wave.

"It's tinted glass, mate," Niall spoke, and even the way he said that was nervous, "They can't see us, but we can see them."

"How interesting," Harry brought his fingers up to the glass.

Louis squeezed his hand. "You gunna be alright?"

Harry nodded. "I am with you, am I not?"

Louis shook his head and blushed. The car stopped outside of the courtroom, and all four of them emitted a big, deep sigh. Liam left the car first, and Louis watched as the cameras hounded him. To the side, there was even a news reporter, stood waiting for the world's first look at Cupid.

"Ready?" Louis asked.

Harry let out a small nod, and then, they were outside. Louis could barely see over the flashes as he walked forwards, the questions filling his ears. Most of them were directed towards Harry, but as Harry reached for his hand the subject began to change.

"Mr Tomlinson! Is it true that you have became close with the client?"

"Mr Tomlinson! Does your client speak?"

"Is your hair today based upon Legolas, Cupid?"

"Are you two together?"

"What other gods exist, Cupid? Eros?"

"Are you really found wearing a nappy at all times, or is that just lore?"

Louis squeezed his hand, and thought:  _don't answer._

Harry squeezed back.  _I will not. But I must admit, their choices of questions are rather interesting._

Louis, despite himself, chuckled, and had never been so grateful to see a pair of doors in his life. When they closed behind them, Niall ushered all four of them into a hug.

"That was weird," he breathed, "Haven't seen that much shit since the Cowell case."

"It's more than that," Liam said, "But yeah. There were a lot of paps out there."

"I'll say," Niall squeezed their shoulders, "Okay. It's gunna be alright, lads."

"Ni," Louis laughed, "We know."

"Just-- Just focus on the lawyery shit. Liam, be professional. Louis, be the handsome bastard that you are. Harry, don't lose your cool."

"I am always cool," Harry attested, and then he turned around.

"Well well well," Sheila said, and they all snapped to attention, "I'd savour your last few moments of owning anything worthwhile. Because after this case is over, everything you have is mine."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Louis flared, and Harry squeezed his hand.

 _Calm,_ he thought.

"Mr Cupid," she sneered, stepping forwards, "I don't believe we've had the pleasure. Or, is it Harry, now? I can't quite keep up."

Tim sneered from behind her, stood in a very posh looking suit. His hair was all jelled vigorously backwards, as if he had recently been put into a vacuum.

"His name is Harry," Niall said, "And I'd back away if I were you."

"You're their secretary, I assume?" Sheila looked him up and down, "Unless your job description includes being a ventriloquist's dummy, I don't think I was talking to you."

"Niall," Liam warned, "Leave it. It's not worth it."

They began to walk away, Louis' jaw clenched tight. From behind Sheila, Colin appeared, a very smug expression on his face.

"It's strange, isn't it?" He asked, "Everyone but the client has stepped up to us. For someone so powerful, he seems very incapable of defending himself."

There came a pause, and then, Harry's fist was in Colin's face.

Louis gaped in shock. "Harry!"

"You have no judicial merit, or honour to your name," Harry spoke, uncharacteristically angry, "You have slept with Sheila multiple times in the hope that she will stay with you after you win the case. This is not the truth. She will abandon you, as she has abandoned everyone that has ever loved her. And you will always stay blind to what you have missed."

Colin staggered back, clutching at his nose. "What are you on about?"

"Last night," Harry stepped closer, and Louis gripped his arm, "You really thought she meant it, didn't you? When she told you that she loved you. But she slept with Tim an hour later. You've had your doubts from the start."

Colin's face went slack with fear, and then, he turned on Sheila. "You absolute--"

"How did he know about that?" Sheila screamed, pointing a finger, "You-- you rat-faced bastard!"

"You have no honour," Harry said, "And while I love all creatures, I quite possibly despise you the most."

He finally allowed Louis to tug him away, and for a moment, the four of them stood, in shocked silence, outside of the courtroom. Liam rounded on him first.

"What the bloody fuck was that about?" He asked, brown eyes heavy.

"I read his mind," Harry said, "It was not, necessarily, my fault that he was thinking about her at the time."

"But-- Harry," Liam spoke, "You hit the fucking prosecution."

Harry shrugged. "It was the right thing to do."

Niall cackled, and clapped him on the back, "It was fucking awesome, that is what it was."

"It broke so many rules--" Liam tried, face slack.

"Jesus, Li," Niall frowned, "Get the stick out of your arse. It was epic."

"It was pretty cool," Liam conceded, but he still looked worried.

"You-- you didn't have to do that," Louis said, voice distance, "Not for me."

"It was for all of us," Harry spoke, "And I think that he needed it too."

Louis kissed him on the cheek and sighed. "Just don't do it again, okay?"

"It is tempting," Harry murmured, "But I won't."

"God, it was so cool," Niall imitated the punch, "Ka-zoom! Guess what, bitch? She's been sleeping with her husband the whole time! Pa-pow! Ka-wow!"

"Niall," Liam slapped his hand onto Niall's shoulder, "We're outside of a courtroom."

"Sorry," Niall giggled, "Harry? You may be a god? But to me, you're a badass motherfucker."

"I--" Harry blinked, "Thank you."

Liam laughed at that, and then, squeezed both Harry and Louis' shoulders. "Okay. We're going in. I'll see you in there, okay?"

Harry nodded, and Louis looked to him.

"Harry," he spoke, softly, "No matter what happens--"  
  
"It is okay," Harry spoke, "I understand."

His smile was soft, and his mind said  _I love you._ Louis felt his entire body go numb.

-

"Court is now in session," the judge announced. "The case at hand concerns the liability of the defendant, Cupid, for the recent debt of the company _Lyvoninsky and Co,_ as owned by the claimants. May the prosecution come to the stand?"

Louis bated his breath as Colin walked up to the stand before the judge, face bitter. He had stuffed some toilet tissue up his nose, and was sending everyone else in the courtroom, media included, a very angry glare.

"Are you quite well, Mr Starky?" The judge asked.

"Yes, your honour," Colin snarked, and looked at the first page of his file, "I am here representing the Lyvoninsky side of this trial."

He sent Sheila a cold stare when he said _Lyvoninsky,_ and Harry sent Louis a very satisfied glance.

"Make your case, Mr Starky," the judge said.

"On the first of January, 1994, the defendant in question made Sheila Harbell and Tim Lyvoninsky fall in love. They did not want to be in love but for the so-called Cupid's interruption, and because of their ensuing wedding, their companies merged. This merge lost the company an estimated twenty-five million in earnings, as well as many beloved employees."

He handed a file to the usher, who then handed it to the judge.

"That's the figures of the company's shares before and after the merge, respectively. As you can see, there is a significant drop in both earnings and shares for the company."

"I see," the judge said, "Continue."

"It is not usual for companies that large to merge due to personal matters such as a wedding," Colin said, "But, due to Cupid's interruption, my clients grew irrational, and made business decisions that may have not seemed wise."

"Such as the merging," the judge said.

"Yes," Colin spoke, "And after the effects of whatever Cupid's intrusion wore off, the ensuing divorce then caused my clients further suffering and discomfort. It has been suggested that the divorce in question will cost the both of them around six million pounds, respectively, to settle and divide ownership of business and property, private and public."

"And this is also something Cupid is responsible for," the judge put their hand on their face, "How?"

"Well," Colin said, "He fired the dart between Sheila and Tim, causing them to fall in love in the first place."

He handed the judge a photocopied sheet of paper, the likes of which were projected onto a board in front of the whole court. Louis' jaw tightened.

"As you can see as written in the first book of the Latin poet Ovid's _Metamorphoses_ ," Colin said, "Cupid's arrows can either inspire love or repulsion. This fiction was later supported by fact when I cross-examined the defendant in an interview."

Another screen came up, this time displaying an audio file. Colin played it aloud.

_"What powers do your arrows possess?"_

Harry's voice rang loud and clear across the court.  _"They can either create love, or hatred, between two people."_

"I then began to delve deeper into the nature of the 'love' that Cupid was professing to spread between people," Colin spoke, "As shown in the audio clip."

_"And is the love unbreakable? Do you know if it'll last?"_

_"It is never guaranteed if the love between the two will last."_

_"So, essentially, you're just taking a chance. Playing god with people's emotions, as it were."_

_"If my heart says they should be together, then they should. The result is irrelevant."_

Colin stopped the audio. "Did you hear that? The result is _irrelevant._ The defendant showed little to no remorse in response to the chaos his actions may have caused, or the suffering that might have ensued in response to his meddling. The defendant also attests to the fact that his heart skips beats when he sees two people that should be together, but there is no proof to support this. When we measured his heart rate during the interview, it was incredibly fast throughout, no matter who he was looking at. This suggests that as he is not human, his body does not follow human attributes, and makes his excuse for making Sheila and Tim fall in love incredibly flimsy."

Louis' heart began to thump, and Harry looked remorseful. He tried to catch his eye to tell him that it was alright, but Harry would not look up.

"Furthermore," Colin stated, "When we asked the defendant if the love darts have ever made people experience strange or irrational effects, he said--"

_"Love comes in many forms. Sometimes, it comes quickly. Sometimes, it comes slowly. It all depends on the person."_

"...So," Colin summarised, "Not only did Cupid fire the dart between Sheila and Tim, uncaring of the result and without proper reasoning behind doing so-- blaming the chaos on his 'heart', he also suggested that it was completely reasonable to assume that there would be extreme responses to the love depending on the person. Thus, making the irrational merging of the companies completely plausible, and thus putting the blame at his door."

"Point taken," the judge said, "Mr Starky, please call your witnesses to the stand."

Colin did, and a very tall woman made her way to the stand. She almost looked frightened.

"This is Doris," Colin said, "Doris is Sheila's personal assistant, and has worked alongside her for years."

"I remember the day th-the companies merged," Doris spoke, shakily, "Sheila was not herself. She was giddy, very giddy. And she didn't even--"

"Clearly a case of the love dart," Colin interrupted, and crossed his arms.

"Mr Starky," the judge spoke, concerned, "The witness had not finished giving her statement."

"That was all," Colin said, and shooed Doris away. Liam and Louis shared a look: something definitely was not right. "My second and last witness is Matthew Stewart, Head of the Chair."

Harry visibly straightened as Mr Stewart grumpily walked to the stand. 

"Yeah, I was there," he muttered, "When the companies merged. I signed the papers myself."

Louis sent Harry a calming look, and Harry closed his eyes.

Mr Stewart seemed very reluctant to elaborate, but sighed nonetheless. "It was definitely because of love. Sheila and Tim were all over each other all day, heart eyes. It wasn't anything like I'd ever seen."

"Is that all?" The judge clasped their hands.

"Yes, your honour," Colin nodded, and he and the witnesses walked back to their stand.

"I now call the defence to the stand," the judge said, and eyed up Liam and Louis.

Louis waited for Liam to stand, but Liam handed him the files, instead. "You should do it."

"Li-- I--" Louis gaped.

"Come on, Lou," Liam smiled, "You won the Cowell case for us. You can do this."

Louis smiled, a little, and Harry met his eye. He heard his voice in his head, saying _I love you,_ and Louis knew that he had to do it. For them.

"Okay," he said, and began to walk.

He made his way to the stand and felt the nerves bundle in his stomach. "Your honour. I am here representing the Cupid side of the case."

The judge nodded. "State your case."

"Your honour," Louis placed his files on the desk before him, "I challenge and dispute every single one of the prosecution's claims, with proof. Firstly, the idea of the merging of the two companies being a direct response to the wedding of the claimants is completely untrue."

He handed a file to the usher, who then handed it to the judge.

"In front of you is a file showing the net worth of Mrs Lyvoninsky's company net worth, as given to her by her parents. The Harbell family money was old money, and as you can see, it existed in an excess of twelve million pounds," Louis handed up another sheet, "Here is the company net worth after she took control of the family company. As you can see, after her interference, it dropped to two million pounds within the year, and fifty hundred thousand pounds, within another year. That was the year in which she met Tim, 1994."

"I see," the judge said, examining the files, "Continue."

Louis fought the shaking of his hands. "When she met Tim, her company was close to failure. The defendant was unaware of this as he caused the two to fall in love. The marriage of the two happened that same year, in the August of 1994. The merging of the companies happened just as her company announced bankruptcy, as shown in this news report."

He handed a newspaper cutout to the judge, who nodded in response. "Are you suggesting that the company's merging happened as a result of her loss in money?"

"Yes, your honour," Louis spoke, "In contrast, Mr Lyvoninsky's company was blooming. It had a record high number of shares that year, and was very, very successful. Cupid's arrows hold no obligation within them to create situations where business and earnings would ever be required to merge, as the prosecution insinuates. In fact, it is the complete opposite."  
  
Harry nodded from the side, and Louis cleared his throat.

"So, in that light, it becomes more than clear that if the two were to merge their company, it would not have been in response to Cupid's interference. Whereas the effects of Cupid's arrows may, in some cases, create mania, it is not so in this case."

"And how do you know that, Mr Tomlinson?" The judge frowned.

"I have proof," Louis said, "An audio clip, from Matthew Stewart, Head of the Chair."

 _"She's a blue blooded piece of work,"_ the audio clip played,  _"And she ran out of her parent's money. Said she spent the last of it on her honeymoon, and the next thing I know, I'm being told to sort the companies out. Make them bigger, Tim said. Put them together. It'll be a real good idea. Well, as it turns out, it wasn't. The companies didn't gel well. People left. And now, we're getting into a massive amount of debt."_

There was a stunned silence within the court, and Sheila stood in outrage. 

"You--" she yelled, "You---"

"Order!" The judge said, "The evidence stands."

Louis caught the eye of Mr Stewart in the audience, who looked oddly satisfied and angry at the same time. He then looked to Harry, who looked incredibly jubilant, and felt a new-found confidence burn in his stomach. He continued.

"Furthermore," he said, handing more files to the judge, "The prosecution's claim that the defendant was 'uncaring of the result' of his actions was completely untrue. His statement that the result was irrelevant was not said to underestimate the after-effects of the love that ensued. The point he was trying to make was, that no matter the result, the love was worth having in the moment. It was worth experiencing. Having. Because even if it was temporary, it was still worth it. It was still worth feeling."

He looked at Harry when he said it, and his heart thumped in his chest. From across the room, a silent, glittering tear drifted down Harry's face.

"Is there proof to support this claim?" The judge asked.

"Yes," Louis cleared his throat, "Uh, witnesses."

Two people walked to the stand, and Louis saw Harry's face melt in confusion as he looked at them.

"There have been very few Cupid sightings throughout time," Louis spoke, "But those that are most recent attain that he made the most positive of changes in their lives. This is Carol and Sarah, from Washington."

"Hi," Carol spoke, "This is me, and my ex-wife, Sarah. We fell in love because of Cupid twenty years ago, and split because of our differences five years ago."

Sarah smiled kindly Carol's way, "Even if it did not last, we had the best of times together, and still hold the utmost respect for one another. I remarried and found love elsewhere, and I still do not blame Cupid for the pain that might have ensued due to our split. Because it was worth the pain in the end, and worth the connection that we made."

"We have a child together," Carol spoke, softly, "One that would have never came to be without us meeting, and falling in love. Without Cupid, I would not have the beautiful son that I have. So I thank him, from the depths of my heart."

Harry was crying from the side, and attempting to wave their way. Louis saw Liam slowly motion the word "No!" his way.

"What they're saying is," Louis spoke, "It was worth it. The love part. Because it was so so nice while it lasted, and it's after effects were not just bad, but good, too."

"I wouldn't change a thing," Sarah said.

"Thank you," Louis nodded, and they left the stand, "My final argument is not a direct response to the prosecution, but to the case as a whole. For a pair of claimants claiming to be innocent and just in all that they do, both Sheila and Tim have threatened and attempted to intimidate us and our client on multiple occasions. As you can see on the CCTV footage from our firm, four months ago, Tim and Sheila Lyvoninsky came into our firm, and offered us money in an attempt to get us to leave the case."

An image flicked onto the board, and the court erupted in noise. 

"Order!" The judge yelled, "Order!"

"As you can see," Louis fought the noise, "On the table, there is a large amount of money, put there so they could not only bribe us away, but so they could unjustly choose their own defence for the defendant, or perhaps even settle the case outside of legal parameters. My associate and I filed a report on this, but it miraculously never made it to higher powers. A few weeks later, Tim Lyvoninsky came to our private address and attempted to speak directly to the client with the intent of intimidating him out of the trial. He did not succeed in this, but I thought that it would be-- worth mentioning."

The court was in uproar, and both Tim and Sheila were yelling angry words from the side.

"Order in the court," the judge said, angrily, and turned to Louis, "Thank you, Mr Tomlinson. Your point was made quite clearly."

"Thanks, your honour," Louis replied, and hastily stepped down from the stand.

He rejoined Liam at the side, where Liam was endlessly jubilant. "You did so good."

"I just hope it was enough," Louis spoke, and sat down.

They watched the judge think things over for a moment, assessing all of the files before them. Then, they stood, and looked at both prosecution, and defence.

"In assessment of all of the facts before me," they said, voice steely, "And in consideration of the preliminary trial and this both, I rule in favour of Cupid, and his defence."

The court exploded, and Niall began screaming from the stands. 

"Oh my god," Liam said, and he gripped Louis in a hug, "Oh my fucking god!"

Louis caught Harry's eye over the chaos, and he was crying. Louis couldn't stop looking at him.

"The court will award no money to the Lyvoninsky company due to a lack of evidence," the judge said, "And an investigation will ensue in relation to their attempt to avert justice. Court is now out of session."

As soon as the judge banged the gavel Louis was out of the side, and running to Harry-- who met him in kind. Louis thought the both of them were sobbing: they must have been. Niall wrapped his arms around them and Liam did too, and for a moment, time moved in nothing but slow motion.

"I'm so proud of you," Harry gushed, under it all, "Thank you. Truly."

"H," Louis breathed, "You're welcome. You're more than welcome."

"You won't get away with this," Sheila snarled, walking past them. She was being lead out by a very stern-looking law officer. "You won't."

"Oh, fuck off, you bag," Niall stuck a finger up at her, and Liam slapped it away. "Come on, Li! It's party time!"

"Let's get out of here first," Liam said, and so they did. They were one step, two steps, three steps, out of the courtroom, arm in arm, when time seemed to stop altogether.

Literally.

Everyone around them froze, and through the confusion, rose petals began to shiver and tremble. Louis looked at Harry for an explanation, but he looked terrified. When he met Louis' eye, he was sorrowful, and his face lacked all of the happiness it had mere moments before.

"I'm sorry," he said, softly.

In front of them formed a woman, tall and golden, her hair seemingly made of flowers. She was massive, and undoubtedly beautiful- her eyes made of silver. She was surrounded by people that looked like Harry, but with varying hairstyles and postures, all sporting wings.

It took a moment for Louis to realise who it was. And then, the world became a little darker.

"My boy," Aphrodite leaned down, "My Eros. It is time to take you home."

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall. i am so sorry for the slow update. i went on holiday !! but im back now. one more chap to go


	14. Chapter 14

 

xiv.

 

For a moment, nobody moved. Harry stood there, still in his beautiful blue suit, and Louis stood there, gaping, at the gods in front of them. Foreseeably, it was Niall who made the first move.

"Holy fucking dick sucking fuck shit," he murmured, "Are you a _goddess?"_

Aphrodite looked to Harry, completely ignoring Niall's confusion. "Come, Eros. It is time to leave."

"Wait," Liam spoke, softly, "What's...What's going on?"

Niall blinked at Harry. "Is--is that your _mother?"_

"Yes," Harry spoke, distant, "The goddess of love."

"Bloody Hell," Niall spoke, "Is she always that huge?"

"I can become a smaller form, if you wish," Aphrodite spoke, and shrunk, so that she was at eye level with them, "But there is no point to this aside from asserting your comfort. We shall not be here long."

"The people," Louis spoke, pointing, "Around us. What did you do?"

"I froze them," Aphrodite blinked, gold dust falling from her eyelashes, "Do not worry, Louis Tomlinson. They are not harmed."

"You did not have to come here," Harry said, slowly, "There are better places, for this."

"Indeed there are," Aphrodite spoke, surprised by her son's interruption, "Like Olympia. We shall discuss this further there."

"I am not going to Olympia with you, mother," Harry's jaw clenched, and Louis' stomach dropped.

"Harry," he moved to stand in front of him, frantic, "No."

"Harry, yes," Harry protested, frowning, "This is not your decision."

"It's your home," Louis pleaded, "That's your family. You-- They belong with you."

Aphrodite nodded in approval. "The small one speaks sense. Come with us, Eros. You belong with the Erotes and I."

"Louis," Harry appeared distressed, "You are my home. I do not want to leave you."

"They're your family!" Louis spoke, "I mean, for god's sake-- do you know what I'd give to have a moment with my mother back? Go with them!"

Harry shook his head, "I cannot. I cannot leave."

"Harry--"

"Louis," Harry repeated, voice forcibly steady, "This is not your decision."

Niall held Louis' arm, "Lou, he's right."

"He can't-- he doesn't mean that," Louis spoke, weakly, "Liam, tell them."

"Louis--" Liam's face was drawn tight, "It's his decision. You can't tell him where to go."

"He-- he--" Louis' chest began to heave, "He's making a mistake. He-- he should go. He wants to go."

"But I also want to stay," Harry stressed, holding his hands, "Louis. Please do not fight me on this."

"Your place is not with them," Aphrodite spoke, cold, "You know that you cannot stay here, Eros."

"My place is where I choose it to be," Harry walked forwards, and met her eye, "Mother. You have known since I was born that I did not belong on Olympia."

"You were-- different. Lonely," Aphrodite mused, "But I created you siblings so that you would no longer be so. Look at your brothers, Eros. Tell me that you want to leave when you meet their eyes."

"I am sorry," Harry spoke, faltering, "I love you all more than words can display. But-- I want to remain on Earth. I want to-- learn. I cannot spend my life concerning myself in other's happiness when I consistently ignore my own."

"No," Aphrodite spoke, jaw tight, _"No."_

"Mother," a new voice said, and Anteros walked from beside her, "Let me speak with him."

A look passed between Aphrodite and her son, before she nodded, and Anteros walked to Harry. There was an obvious amount of respect between them: Louis could tell that from the way they looked at each other alone. There was a pause, and then Anteros and Harry embraced, tightly, as if the world had no space for any other comfort.

"Eros," Anteros said, softly, "I know that you wish to stay. I know that this man means the world to you. But you have to know that if you leave, there is no coming back. You would have to--"

"--Turn human," Harry spoke, eyes shut, "I know. I understand."

"I do not know that you do," Anteros' eyes were sad, "What if you regret staying, brother? What then?"

"I will not," Harry spoke, definitely, "I know that. This is what I want."

"I know," Anteros looked to Louis. "I suppose I have always known."

Harry's jaw was tight as he squeezed his brother's hands, and looked to the rest of his family. "What I'm doing--In our world I know it is considered a betrayal. It is not that I do not want to be a god any longer, I do, it is just that-- I want to stay _even more_ than that. I want to live. I want to feel what I was never allowed to previously. I do not want to live forever while the world spins on. I-- I want to stay. I just hope you will be able to forgive me."

"We will," Anteros held Harry's hands, "Always. There is no doubt in that. We will always be here for you."

Louis felt his eyes begin to water; Niall held his hand.

"Mother?" Harry spoke, slowly walking to her.

"He is right," she looked down, "We shall always be here. I do-- not agree with your decision. But I will support it, as I have always supported you. And I will love you, as I have always loved you."

She reached into her dress and pulled out a rose, golden in texture, sparkling in all that it was. She placed it in Harry's hand, and kissed it.

"You are my rose," she spoke, voice heavy, "My sun, my moon. All of my stars. Never forget who you are."

He closed his eyes and began to cry, leaning his head against hers. Louis felt the moment and, equally, felt a knife twist in his chest. They all watched as she kissed him on the forehead, and slowly, sparkles, silver in nature, began to move from Harry. It continued for a few seconds before he staggered in her arms, and fell, slowly, to the floor. Louis ran to him, holding his shoulders.

"What-- What did you do?" He stammered, as Harry slumped into him, "What happened?"

"He is mortal now," Aphrodite spoke, and her face was cold, "He-- he is yours."

She closed her eyes, and his bow and arrow appeared in her hands. She slowly turned, and handed it to Anteros, who closed his eyes in remorse.

"Look after him," Aphrodite said, sternly, to Louis. And then, she walked away.

Louis looked down at Harry, who was very much unconscious in his arms, his eyes closed, his skin pale. Niall and Liam stooped on either side of him and gaped, unsure of what to say.

"Is he-- is he gonna be alright?" Louis asked.

"He shall." Anteros walked to them, kissing all three of them on the forehead. "You have hearts of gold. Thank you for everything."

"I don't-- I don't know what to do," Louis begged, "Please. I don't know what to do."

Anteros held his face. "You are much more than what you know. He loves you. If you use your heads, all will be well."

"He's right, Lou," Niall put his hand on his shoulder, "We'll look after him."

"He-- he's not a god anymore," Louis sat in shock, "He-- He's not-- He--"

Anteros leaned, and kissed Harry on the forehead, before whispering something in Ancient Greek into his ear. Louis couldn't quite catch what it was: he was still breathing, rapidly. in shock, Harry slumped in his arms. Anteros then stood, a portrait of grace, and waved goodbye. The rest of his brothers came to see Harry, individually whispering into his ear, before a whirlwind of rose petals appeared, and they rose in unison.

"The best of luck to you, mortals," Aphrodite called, and then, they were gone.

Louis sat there for a second, shaking in shock. And then, the people around them unfroze, and began to stare.

"Oh my god! Did he faint?" One of them said, and reached for a camera.

"No," Liam stood first, and pushed their camera away, "No pictures. He just needs some air."

"Louis?" Niall whispered, "Are you okay?"

"I just--" Louis blinked, distant, "I just can't believe he did this."

"Let's get him up," Niall took Harry's other arm, "Okay? One, two--"  
  
They heaved him up, and with Liam clearing a path, began to exit the courtroom. Louis' mind was a thunderstorm, with one word in the centre of it: _why?_

-

Harry woke up in bed. The first thing he saw was his suit, hung up, in the wardrobe, and the second thing he saw was Louis. He hurdled towards him, from a place Harry knew not, and cradled his face.

"Oh my God," he panted, "Oh my God. We were about to call the ambulance."

"Amm...Ambalance?" Harry frowned, trying to focus. He felt groggy, something he had never felt before. And his limbs were very hard to move.

"An ambulance," Louis brushed the hair from Harry's eyes, "For help. We-- we didn't even know if you were alive, or--"

"Why?" Harry held his hand: he needed the world to stop moving, "Why did you worry?"

"You've been asleep for two fucking days, H," Louis stated, "I mean, Liam said it was probably because you were catching up on all the sleep you'd missed as a god, or your body was adjusting, or--"

"Lou," Harry murmured, and closed his eyes, "Please calm. I cannot handle big sentences."

"How are you feeling?" Louis' voice trembled.

"I-- I feel tired," Harry mumbled, "Very tired."

"Me too," Louis stroked his cheek, "Jesus fuck, H. I was so worried. And you-- you fucking went and did it, didn't you? You turned yourself human."

"I wanted to be with you," Harry spoke, hoarse, "With this world."

"There could have been other ways," Louis' voice was heavy, like he'd been crying, "We-- we could have figured it out."

Harry opened his eyes a little, and cupped Louis' face, "It is what it is. I do not regret a thing."

Louis bit his lip. "I really hate you right now."

He obviously did not, because the next thing he did was hug him. He was squished to the bone, it felt like, and Harry noticed how things felt so much more real in such a state. He held Louis back, and fought the tears.

"Please do not worry for me," he said, and weakly patted Louis' back, "What did I miss?"

Louis sat back, and there were tears already going down his face. "Well, we won the trial. Obviously."

Harry laughed, hoarsely, "Obviously."

"And, uh," Louis held his hand, "The news broke. Of the case, and stuff. Sheila and Tim are filing for bankruptcy and a divorce. Colin fucked off somewhere, I don't know where. Niall's been binge watching Glee and eating cookies out of stress, and I'm not entirely sure Liam hasn't joined him. But we're going to look after you, us lot. We're going to keep you safe, and figure this out."

"Thank you," Harry squeezed his hand, "Truly."

"Also," Louis spoke, quickly, "I decided I love you."

Harry smiled so much it felt as though his face was splitting. It slightly hurt, but in that moment he did not care. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Louis laughed, a little, and then reburied himself in Harry's torso, "Please never do anything like this again."

"Like what, my love?"

"Fucking sleep for two days straight," Louis snorted, "I'm serious. I worried so much my hair fell out. See?"

He tilted his head, and Harry giggled. There was nothing amiss. As always, Louis was displaying his flair for the dramatic.

"I do not see much of a change," he remarked, "Did you not always have a bald patch there?"

"Right," Louis laughed, and made a face, "For that, you get a tickle. When you're not tired, of course."

"I fear that may take some time," Harry yawned, "Where is Angie?"

"Angie?" Louis thought, "Uh, she's in the other room. No doubt trying to steal Niall's cookies. Why?"

"I would-- I would like to hold her," Harry stroked Louis' hair, "After, I mean."

"After what?" Louis frowned.

"After this," Harry said, mustering all of his strength, before leaning down and kissing him.

-

Harry slept a lot that week. And when Louis said a lot, he meant, at least ninety percent of the time. It was at least Saturday of that week that he actually started becoming himself again, and even that was a shock.

As it happened, Louis was having a wee when Harry decided to waltz on in, stumbling and weary and beautiful. Louis nearly had a heart attack.

"Harry!" He spoke, jumping, "You're up!"

"I am not up," Harry mumbled, disgruntled, "I am Harry."

"How did you--" Louis gaped, "I thought you were tired!"

"I still am," Harry leaned against the doorway, evidently exhausted, "But I mustered the strength to get up, and so I did. What are you doing?" 

"I-- I'm weeing," Louis spoke, slowly, "Why?"

"I don't know," Harry frowned, "I just supposed it would appear differently."

"What--" Louis stilted, at a loss- "Wee?"

Harry flushed and shrugged. "I have never seen it before."

"Well, now you're human, I guess you're gonna see a shit ton of it," Louis said, and winced, "I mean, not literally. I hope. I think."

Harry laughed and Louis pulled his pants back up, hastily so. "I came to ask of you something."

"Okay," Louis turned to him, "What?"

"My stomach," Harry spoke, and pointed at his belly, "It feels weird."

"Oh shit," Louis stuck his hands under the tap, and froze, "Are you ill? Or sick?"

"I do not know," Harry frowned, "It keeps making a strange noise. Like rarrgghhr. Or raghrhghghr."

It took Louis a moment to realise what he meant. "Harry, you're hungry."  
  
"Hungry?" Harry frowned. "Oh."

"Yeah, like--" Louis dried his hands, "You need to eat?"

Harry wrinkled his nose. "I know what is hungry. I just-- I assumed it would feel more pleasant."

"My mum used to say it was your tummy complaining at you," Louis laughed, "Come on. What's your fancy?"

Harry followed him out of the bathroom, still frowning. "My fancy-?"

"Yeah!" Louis entered the kitchen, "Like, what do you wanna eat?"

"--I," Harry flushed, spoiled for choice, "I do not know. I have never had to choose before."

Louis looked at him and grinned, unable to resist. Harry was really, truly, stood there, all human and confused, a hand on a hip and his bottom lip sticking out. In all honesty, it wasn't entirely Louis' fault that he kissed him. He's sure anyone else would've done the same.

When they parted, Harry's frown had dissipated, and his nose began to wrinkle. "What was that for?"

"You," Louis breathed, "You, silly. Being you. Always."

Harry giggled. "I am hungry. That is not very me-like."

"No, but," Louis held his waist, "It doesn't matter. You're just adorable, is all."

"Okay," Harry bit his lip, "Are there any Tart of the Pops? And pizza?"

"Pop Tarts," Louis breathed, giggling, "No. But we could always pop to the shops and get some."

"Alright," Harry mumbled, and beamed, "It shall be a date."

-

It was, but not entirely in the way that Louis was thinking.

For starters, Harry got so hungry on the way that they had to stop by a cafe. In the cafe, he was so hungry waiting for their order to come that he accidentally ate someone else's toast. Louis apologised profusely for this, and ordered some more toast for the person to replace it, but Harry was so hungry that he ate that, too. They ended up in a fast food restaurant, in the end, because Louis could see no other way to stop Harry from eating things. When the order arrived, he ate nearly all of that, and even after consuming five pizzas and twelve moderately-sized slices of garlic bread he still was not appeased.

"Is there any more?" He asked, politely.

"Oh my God," Louis just shook his head, blushing, "You're lucky I just got paid, you know."

Harry giggled and hid his head in his shoulders. "I am sorry. I am not used to being-- this."

"It's fine," Louis motioned at the till for another order, "You're still cute and I still love you."

"Does it feel strange?" Harry asked, touching their feet beneath the table, "Saying that?"

Louis thought for a while. "I guess it does. But after I realised it it became easier, you know?"

"When did you realise?" Harry flushed, turning his head to the side.

"Probably as soon as we got back from the trial," Louis admitted, "I mean, I was screaming, Niall was screaming, and none of us knew what to do. In the end we just put you on the bed and tried to come up with a plan. Liam was freaking out and at some point I just looked at you, all peaceful and shit, and just thought: I really, really, want you to be okay. And then I realised."

Harry nodded, deeply, and squeezed Louis' hand. "It feels strange not being able to hear anyone's thoughts."

"I can imagine," Louis squeezed him back, "It's quiet, right?"

"Very," Harry sighed, and ran his thumb along Louis' hand, "I also miss them. A lot."

"Of course you do, babe," Louis met his eye, "It's natural. They're your family."

Harry flushed red. _"Babe?"_

Louis rubbed his face along his shoulder. "Hey, aren't I allowed to call my boyfriend cute shit?"

Harry essentially melted on the spot. "We're...Boyfriends?"

He hid his face and blushed all of the way up to his ears. Louis sighed, shaking his head, and rested his face on his hand.

"What am I gunna do with you?" He asked, and Harry giggled.

"I just thought that..." Harry trailed off.

"What?"

"I do not know," Harry flushed, "It just never occurred to me that we would be dating."

"Well," Louis shrugged, grinning, "This is a date. And we're kinda in love, you know."

"I know," Harry giggled, "But this is me eating a lot of food. What do you want to do?"

"Uhh," Louis tapped the table, "I dunno. What do you want to do?"

"Eat," Harry beamed, "And then dance, with you."

"Anywhere in particular?"

"No," Harry flushed, "But I would also like to try a beer."

"Okay," Louis grinned, "I like this idea."

"You do?"

"Yeah," Louis said, and then a giant crate of pizza arrived at the table, "Okay. This looks like it's yours."

Harry giggled, rapidly, and kissed him. "I love you, you know."

"Yeah," Louis watched him tuck in, "I do."

-

They went to a pub next, and Louis decided, for some reason, it would be a good reason to let Harry pay for drinks. It was not, mostly because when Louis came back to the toilet, Harry was eating the peanuts provided at the bar, and there was no money in sight.

"Louis!" Harry spoke, beaming, "Look at the food I found!"

"Harry, that's free," Louis blinked, "Where are the drinks? Did you not order yet?"

"Oh," Harry frowned, "Um."

"H..." Louis sat next to him.

"I sort of just handed it over," Harry squirmed, "The money. I forgot that you had to ask."

"Oh my God," Louis laughed, "Okay, it doesn't matter. I'll just--"

"Can I try again?" Harry's face lightened when he saw there was more money available, "I will try not to mess it up."

"Uh," Louis cautiously handed him a ten pound note, "Okaaayyyy."

Harry awkwardly coughed, so that the bartender went their way, and their eyes filled with amusement. "Got another tip for me, mate?"

"Uh," Harry looked at Louis for instruction, "No. I would like a beer, please."

Louis blinked at him.

"Two? Beer? Please?" Harry asked, and the bartender shrugged.

"I guess," they said, and Harry handed over the money.

"See?" Harry grinned, "I am good at ordering."

"Second time's the charm, I guess," Louis snorted, and Harry poked him in the rib.

Harry leaned over the bar and watched the bartender fill up two very large glasses of beer. When they came back, he giggled, and put his hands on his face.

"You have very nice ears," he said, respectfully, and then began to down his drink.

"Harry--" Louis tried to warn him, but it was too late-- Harry was already coughing and spluttering.

"Perhaps," he wheezed, "I should have taken that more slowly."

"You okay?" Louis put his hand on his chest, "Need air?"  
  
"I am okay," Harry smiled, and the bartender gave them a strange look, "I forget that mortal lungs are smaller than mine used to be."

The bartender walked to the other side of the bar completely, and Louis shook his head, "Just take it slow. You'll have a lower tolerance, too."

"We do not know that for sure," Harry winked, and then began drinking once more, "Hey! There is one way to test it, isn't there?"

Louis watched him finish his drink. "Oh God. You okay?"

Harry nodded, a very large grin filling his face. "I would like another one."

"Have mine," Louis held out his drink, "I'm not too sure I'm thirsty anymore."

A massive beam filled Harry's expression, and he tipped back Louis' drink as well, a great, floppy fringe of curls making it's way across his face. When he was done, he went to place the glass back down on the bar, but instead, he missed, and dropped it completely on the floor. It smashed.

"Oops," Harry commented, and began to giggle.

The bartender glared at them.

"We'll pay for that!" Louis called, and slapped a fifty pound note on the table, "We'll pay for that-- okay, H. No more throwing drinks."

"I did not throw it," Harry pointed a finger into Louis' chest, "I simply _placed_ it a little too roughly."

"Okay," Louis fought a grin, "So no more rough placing."

Harry tilted his head and began to giggle, drawing Louis close. In doing so he nearly fell from his stool, so Louis ended up holding him up with both arms, and he had to admit they looked rather strange.

"Ooh!" Harry exclaimed, "What's that?"

Louis turned to look where some strangled singing was originating from, and sure enough, there was a karaoke machine. He debated over whether he should tell Harry it's real meaning, and then realised that Harry was probably going to mess with it no matter what Louis said or did.

"It's a karaoke machine," he explained, "You sing into it."

Harry frowned. "For what purpose?"

"I don't know," Louis shrugged, against him, "Fun?"

"There are two people singing there," Harry pointed, and Louis leaned back.

"Yeah, sometimes you can take someone on it to do it with you--" he began, and the next thing he knew, he was being dragged up to the stage.

The friends currently singing were butchering a rendition of Beauty and the Beast's Gaston, but paused when a very enthusiastic Harry tugged on one of their trouser legs.

"Can we go next?" He asked, eagerly, and they awkwardly nodded.

"Harry, hey," Louis pulled him back a little, "Let them finish their song."

"You're very good singers!" Harry yelled, and some people in the bar began to snicker. "They're very good, Louis."

They finished the last chorus, and Harry stood on top of a chair in his applause. He was the only one. When they left the stage he leaped from it, dramatically so, and Louis came to the conclusion that the drinks had had a much larger impression on him than Harry cared to admit.

"Let's go sing a song, Lou!" He beamed, and pranced onto the stage. 

Louis had no choice but to follow, and wished he was as drunk as Harry seemed to be. He watched Harry avidly press at the buttons, frowning as he tried to find a song. It became evidently clear when he did find one, because his face lit up, and he ran to grab a microphone.

"Endless Love?" Louis asked, laughing, "Really?"

"It's a beautiful song!" Harry argued, and handed Louis a microphone. "I like it a lot."

"Of course you like it, babe," Louis rolled his eyes, "It's about never-ending affection and cheesiness."

Harry just grinned absurdly wide at him, and then, he was wiggling his hips.

 _"My love,"_ he began, leaning on a chair, _"There's only you in my life."_

"Oh God," Louis said, and wished he had some kind of recording equipment handy.

 _"The only thing that's bright,"_ Harry slowly began walking towards Louis.  _"My first love--_ Louis, you have to join in!"

"I am not joining in," Louis spluttered into a laugh as Harry took his hand.

 _"You're every breath that I take,"_ Harry sang, on one knee, _"You're every step I make."_

Louis giggled as the entire pub seemed to become engrossed in Harry's drunken singing. He had no idea, however, and resumed his soulful melody straight into Louis' hand.

 _"And I,"_ he began, "--Oh, poo. I cannot see the next line from here."

 _"I want to share,"_ Louis started, giggling, _"All of my love with you."_

 _"Nobody else will do,"_ Harry was grinning.

"No-one," Louis whispered, "It's no-one."

"Oh," Harry's eyes went wide, "No-one! I said no-one, everyone!"

 _"And your eyes,"_ Louis resumed, cackling, _"Your eyes, your eyes--"_

 _"They tell me how much you CAAAAAREEE,"_ Harry belted, and Louis fell into a fit of giggles so deep that he couldn't even sing the next line. _"Ohhhh yeahhhh--"_

 _"Y--you will always beee,"_ Louis giggled, fully, into Harry's chest, and Harry wrapped his arms around him.

 _"My endless loveeee,"_ Harry finished, and then they were both laughing so hard that they couldn't breathe.

Eventually, someone respectable turned off the song, because they spent the rest of it giggling, and didn't stop even after they left the pub. Harry slung his arm around Louis' shoulders, and so they walked, down the pavement, like the happiest people in the world.

"I love you," Harry said, all gooey, "I love you and I love your little nose and I love this planet. Allll of itttt."

"You're so cute," Louis murmured, in awe of him, "God. You're so cute."

"Don't turn this on meeeee. _You_ have the cute nose," Harry pointed, booping it, "I just...I do not know. I say things weird."

"You say things perfectly," Louis held his hand, "You make perfect sense."

"I do?" Harry frowned, "I always thought that I did things in a very weird way."

"You do," Louis grinned, "I mean, of course you do, but they also kinda make sense. In a lot of ways."

Harry shook his head and smiled as if Louis was the one not making sense. "I would like to kiss you."

"Kiss me then," Louis rolled his eyes, "It's not rocket science."

"I do not see the rocket involved," Harry stopped, in the middle of the pavement, and kissed him-- before sharply drawing back, "Unless-- Unless the rocket is a metaphor for a-- crotch. A penis?"

Louis shook his head and just kissed him again, and again, and again. He had never been as happy as he was then, and he did not want it to stop.

-

It didn't stop. For a good while. In fact, it never really stopped.

They bickered a lot, sure, but they had their first real argument a year after, and that was only because Harry distracted Angie so much that she forgot to pee in her designated tray, and then there was pee all over the sofa, and Louis was annoyed that he had to clean it up, and yeah...It was a whole lot of bad timing. But they made up. In the best way, really, because Harry felt so awful about making Angie wee that he bought Louis an entire new puppy, and announced it's arrival by screaming excitedly down the phone at him.

"Harry," Louis said, "Please. Slow down."

"THERSERSFSFAPUSPPFFDTSHF!"

"What?"

"I'm with Niall, at the, at the shop of pets," Harry spoke, and he sounded overly giddy.

"You what now?" Louis frowned, "H, you're meant to be shopping."

"We are," Harry argued, "But as it's your birthday tomorrow and--"

"Harry," Louis stood up, helplessly excited and worried at once.

"Well, it's going to be the X of the Mas and then there is going to be a fun time where presents are exchanged and--"

"H. Babe. Please."

"--I may," Harry paused, "Or may not, have purchased a small dog."

"Oh my God," Louis rushed to the window, "Oh my God."

"A small dog. A...A puppy? He is slightly spotty and he has floppy ears. Niall has called him Bruno, but I wish to call him Bruonos, and--"

"Harry-!" Louis squealed, "Oh my God. Seriously. I-- I'm going to come meet you."

"Please do," Harry spoke, "Ooh! He is eating my finger."

"Stop him from doing that," Louis said, trying to get on a shoe, "H, he's not meant to eat your finger."

"It is alright," Harry giggled, "He does not yet have teeth."

"Oh my God," Louis was shaking with excitement, "Should I-- Should I bring Angie? Or--"

"Yes! Please do that," Harry giggled, "We are leaving the shop soon. I think Niall is trying to flirt with the cashier, however."

"Oh, Jesus," Louis jammed his phone at his ear as he tried to get Angie's lead on, "That can't be good."

"He is doing...Remarkably badly," Harry grimaced, "Ooh. There is something falling from the sky."

"Shit," Louis looked out of the window, "It's snowing."

"Oh-!" Harry gasped, "Louis, is this-- Is this snow?"

The next few minutes were filled with Harry and Louis both squealing, for very different reasons. When Louis got to the shop, he legitimately started crying-- there was a baby Dalmatian in Harry's arms, all snuggled into him in the cold, his legs dangling everywhere. Angie ran up to Harry's legs and, forgetting she was a tiny dog, attempted to sniff the puppy from all of the way on the ground.

"Louis!" Harry spoke, and he seemed effortlessly happy, "Hey."

Louis gasped and stroked the puppy's fur. "Oh my God. He's so pretty."

"He is beautiful," Harry announced, "He is our little baby."

"He is our second little baby," Louis reminded, and lifted up Angie. Harry kissed her on the nose before kissing Louis there, too, which made Louis laugh. He leaned onto Harry's shoulder for a moment, incredibly in love with him. "So this is my birthday present?"

"Yes," Harry grinned, "But I may or may not have named him."

"Well, that's no fun," Louis stuck his lip out.

"I'm sorry-- I just--"

"Harry," Louis laughed, "It's fine. Honestly. Bruonos, right?"

"Bruonos," Harry nodded, "Long for Bruno, but I have never known a Bruno in my life."

"I love you," Louis kissed him, and then looked down at the little puppy, "I love you, too."

Angie sniffed at him, and Harry cackled. "She is wondering if you love her also."

"Of course I fucking do, baby," he nuzzled her, before letting her back on the floor to play. 

"He is cold," Harry murmured, holding Bruonos over to Louis, "I keep forgetting that I can no longer heat things."

"It's okay, H," Louis held the puppy tight, "We'll just get the car. Where the fuck is Niall?"

"Probably proposing, by now, I assume," Harry looked away, "This snow is not like it said it would be in the Narnia."

Louis laughed and looked up. "Well, it's the UK. Everything's basically filtered and toned down a shit ton."

"I would like to visit other places," Harry mused, "With you. If you like."

"Sure," Louis grinned, "I mean, if you can deal with me for that long."

"Louis," Harry spoke, and when Louis looked up at him he was beaming, "I would deal with you for the rest of my life."

They began to walk to the car, and Louis thought on it for a while, blushing. "Careful, H. That almost sounds like a proposal."

Harry grinned, widely, but did not elaborate. It was only when Louis opened the car door that he found the ring.

-

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my fucking GOD. it's over. thank you so much for supporting this ridiculous, ridiculous fic. i never fancied myself a dialogue writer, but...this happened. somehow. thank you for filling this trash with love. i adore you.
> 
> so what happens next? well, niall finishes a play one day. louis is happy, in love, and surrounded by dogs. liam takes on belly dancing, and harry runs an agony aunt section of the firm that does remarkably well. when he's not doing that, he's complimenting all of the clients, and doing tiny little hip wiggles to whatever's on the radio. all is well.
> 
> come yell at me! rhuubarb.tumblr.com/ask  
> EDIT: FUN FACT! this fic is now on lulu!!   
> http://www.lulu.com/shop/rhuu-barb/cupids-defence/paperback/product-23315848.html
> 
>  
> 
> until next time, amigos!


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